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WHAT MADE MAMMA DRAG HER OUT OF CHURCH IN SUCH A HURRY?*’ — PAGE 22. 




IjrrTLE j/^iss \/eezy 


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LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 
NEW YORK 

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
1886 







Copyright, 1886. 

By lee and SHEPARD. 


All rights reser7ied. 




GeNtENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I. 

Teasing Poky 

5 

II. 

Going to Church .... 

. 12 

III. 

The Pumpkin Hood .... 

. 24 

IV. 

Weezy’s Pickle .... 

35 

V. 

Dickery, Dickery, Dock 

. 46 

VI. 

Unker Docker’s Beard 

54 

VII. 

Weezy’s Sambo 

. 65 

VIII. 

Weezy’s Figs 

74 

IX. 

Kirke and Jimmy .... 

00 

00 

X. 

The Birthday Drive . 

. 100 

XI. 

Weezy and Kisty .... 

. no 

XII. 

A Beautiful Present . 

. 122 

XIII. 

The Dolls’ Christmas Wedding . 

. 130 


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blTTLE MISS VEEZY. 


CHAPTER I. 

TEASING POKY. 

** I’s Weezy Wozy, and I’s two old,” said little 
Louise Rowe on her second birthday ; and 
from that time forth everybody called her 
Weezy,” though it wasn’t her real name any 
more than it is yours. 

There were two other little Rowes in the 
family, — Kirke, six years old ; and Molly, eight. 
Their father lived in a pretty Queen Anne 
cottage at the end of the street, and the Wy- 
mans just around the corner. Mrs, Wyman 
was aunt Clara, Mr. Rowe’s sister. 


5 


6 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Having no children of their own, Dr. and 
Mrs. Wyman were fond of borrowing their 
youngest niece ; and this birthday morning 
the doctor’s voice was heard calling from Mr. 
Rowe’s gate, — 

Has anybody here a little girl to lend ? a 
little girl two years old.” 

^‘Here I is, tinker Docker. Ps two old,” 
cried little Miss Weezy, toddling through the 
hall. 

“ Possible } Then you must be the very 
young lady I’m looking for. Get your bonnet, 
Snowy-locks.” 

Mrs. Rowe brought the dainty white Nor- 
mandy cap, and tied it under Weezy’s chin. 

‘‘You must be unker Docker’s darling,” 
said she, lifting her into the carriage. 

Weezy bobbed her head till the cap-frill 
quivered like a spray of cherry-blossoms in a 
wind, and away she was whirled to her uncle’s 
door. 


TEASING POKY. 


7 


Aunt Clara came out, with her bonnet on, 
to ask Dr. Wyman to drive down to the dress- 
maker’s. 

“And if you’ll be a good girl, Weezy, and 
stay with Poky, we’ll bring you home an 
orange,” said she. 

“A dreaty bid ollange ” asked Weezy, al- 
ways sharp on a bargain. 

“Yes, dear; a great, big orange, the biggest 
in the store.” 

“ Oh, ho, I likes ollanges ! ” remarked Weezy, 
prancing away to find the colored girl, whose 
long name was Pocahontas. 

Poky was washing. After giving Weezy 
the clothes-pins to play with, she hastened 
back to her tub on the other side of the 
kitchen. Suddenly two little white arms 
splashed into the soapsuds beside her own 
black ones. 

“Poky tired. Weezy hepy' said the little 
guest, who had climbed a chair unnoticed. 


8 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“ Sho, Miss Weezy ! peart help you are, for 
shore!' cried Poky, wringing her out, and 
standing her upon the table, while she herself 
put a basketful of clothes into the boiler on 
the range. 

Then, believing the child safely penned, she 
brought her a cookie, and ran out to hang the 
clothes-line. Unfortunately, Poky had failed 
to notice that one end of the wash-bench was 
near the table. Left to herself, Weezy speed- 
ily dropped down upon the bench, and from 
that to the floor; and thus it dame to pass 
that she ran and slammed the door behind 
Pocahontas almost as soon as the girl had 
crossed the threshold. 

“ Poky tant turn in ! ” crowed Weezy, turn- 
ing the key in the lock. 

Please let Poky in! Oh, Weezy must let 
poor Poky in I ” shrieked the startled maid, 
running back to the porch, and shaking the 
door. 


TEASING TONY. 


9 


“ No, no ! Poky tan’t turn in,” repeated the 
little tease, delighted to make a sensation. 

Pocahontas could hear the soap-suds bubbling 
in the wash-boiler, and she knew it might at 
any moment overflow and scald the child. But 
what was to be done ? Half wild, she ran from 
window to window, and found every one of them 
bolted. The front-door, too, was fastened, and 
the key was in Dr. Wyman’s pocket. A sharp 
clattering in the kitchen drew trembling Poky 
to the window in the rear. 

“ Oh, oh ! Little Miss Weezy’ll kill herself, 
and the doctor’ll blame me ! ” groaned she, 
looking in as Weezy thrust the poker into the 
range. 

“ I’s makin’ fire,” shouted the child proudly, 
while in the boiler above the water foamed 
and seethed. 

“ Weezy’ll burn ! Weezy’ll burn ! Oh, 
please come ! ” cried Pocahontas with chatter- 
ing teeth. 


lO 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Weezy laughed roguishly, and rattled the 
poker. 

Quick ! oh, quick ! ” sobbed Poky, almost 
beside herself, as she saw streams of water be- 
ginning to course down the sides of the boiler. 

Weezy looked up, and the tears in Poky’s 
eyes melted the child’s perverse little heart. 

Poor Poky ky ; Poky s' all come in,” said 
she, skipping across to the window. 

Her flight was none too soon ; for the soap- 
suds that moment boiled over, flooding the 
range and every thing within reach. Even 
far away as she was, Weezy’s pretty Gretchen 
dress was spattered from neck to hem. 

Little did aunt Clara think of that, as she 
sprang into the kitchen, and caught up her 
mischievous pet, crying, — 

“ Thank Heaven, my darling is safe ! What 
was Poky thinking of, to leave you alone ! ” 

“ Poky out doors ! Weezy shut Poky out ! ” 
said the little rogue demurely. 


TEASING POKY. 


1 1 

You shut Poky out ! ” exclaimed aston- 
ished aunt Clara, kissing the wee meddling 
hands, still black from the poker. ^‘Well, well, 
who ever heard the like } ” 

And it was Mrs. Wyman who let poor 
Poky in, as Weezy could not turn back the 
key. 


CHAPTER 11. 

GOING TO CHURCH. 

Weezy was fast learning to talk, and her 
brother and sister delighted in teaching her 
long and difficult words, such as ‘‘ Mexico ” 
and ‘‘Constantinople.” 

Molly was a motherly little girl, always 
worrying over the shortcomings of Weezy 
and her young brother. It is true that Kirke 
was often led astray by a rough little playmate, 
Jimmy Maguire; and Weezy was perhaps in- 
structed in mischief by a three-years-old neigh- 
bor, Kisty Nye : still, it might have been as well 
if Molly had found less fault with the little 
ones, and thought more of correcting her own 
sad failing, — a quick and troublesome temper. 


12 


GOING TO CHURCH. 


13 


One evening the three children were swing- 
ing together in the hammock in their front 
yard, watching for grandpa Rowe. 

“ Now sing ‘ Little Sally Walker,’ darling, 
please do,” said Molly, playing with her little 
sister’s flaxen curls, 

Weezy had already hummed “Bring back 
my Bonnie to me,” and various other tunes, 
and was tired. 

“Tan’t sing; sing’s all gone! Loot!” said 
she, opening her mouth very wide, to show 
how empty it was of music. 

“ Grandpa’s most here ! ” shouted Kirke, 
leaping from the hammock and running to 
meet an old gentleman walking up the street. 
Yes, it was grandpa Rowe, a dear white-haired 
minister, with kind blue eyes, and a face as 
smooth and pink as a baby’s. And the satchel 
he carried held a written sermon ; for he was 
going to stay over Sunday and preach for the 
village pastor, Mr. Cutler. 


14 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


*‘It isn’t every little girl that has such a 
good grandpa, Weezy, I can tell you,” said 
Molly wisely, as they hastened after Kirke. 
“Why, if you should be naughty, it would 
make him want to cry.” 

The remark seemed to amuse Weezy very 
much ; and when the “ good ” man took her in 
his arms to kiss her, she shouted gleefully, — 

“ Gampa goin’ to ky ! What a keer old 
gampa ! ” 

Molly was so mortified that she ran into the 
house, and kept out of the way till tea-time. 

Grandpa’s visits were always a delight, and 
it was considered a great treat to hear him 
preach. The next morning Mr. and Mrs. 
Rowe both wanted to go to church ; but with 
Lovisa Bran, the housemaid, away, what could 
be done with Weezy ? 

“ Can’t Molly stay with her ? ” suggested Mr. 
Rowe, closing the dining-room door for fear of 
being overheard. 




GOING TO CHURCH. 


15 


“ Of course she might do it, with neighbors 
so near ; but she has been depending upon 
going to church with her grandfather.” 

“Yes, I know. She thinks it a high honor 
to have a minister in the family. I overheard 
her boasting last night that she was the only 
girl in her class who had a grandfather that 
could preach ! ” 

“ I would stay at home myself if it was re- 
spectful to^father,” said Mrs. Rowe thought- 
fully. 

When she went up -stairs by and by, she 
found Molly trying on the pretty fall hat that 
she had not yet worn. It was a white felt, 
trimmed with blue velvet and blue and white 
ostrich plumes, and suited well her fair com- 
plexion and rich auburn hair. 

“ It is lovely, dear, and I know it will be a 
sad disappointment to you if you can’t wear it 
to-day,” said Mrs. Rowe, coming up behind her 
daughter at the glass. 


6 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Not wear it ? It doesn’t rain. Why can’t 
I wear it } ” cried Molly in great excitement. 

Mrs. Rowe hesitated. It was certainly her 
own place rather than Molly’s to attend church 
to-day; but she found it hard to crush her 
little daughter’s pleasant anticipations. 

“You forget, Molly, that Lovisa is away, and 
somebody must look out for little sister,” said 
she gently. “Aren’t you willing to be the 
one .? ” 

“No, I’m not, mamma. I’m not willing. I 
think it’s too horrid, hateful mean! I never 
can go anywhere or do any thing I want to, 
just because of that little tagging fuss-budget,” 
cried Molly, tearing off the cherished hat and 
flinging it on the bed in a towering passion. 

“That will do,” sighed mamma, walking 
away. “And you need not stay at home, Molly. 
I should be sorry to trust our little Weezy to 
the care of a girl who does not control her- 
self.” 


GOING ro CHURCH. 


17 

“Any thing wrong, Mary?” asked Mr. Rowe, 
meeting his wife in the hall. 

“ Only Molly’s temper again,” said • she 
wearily. “ She feels so abused at being asked 
to stay at home with Weezy that I think it 
wisest not to urge the point, but to leave her 
to herself, and let her find out how naughty 
she is.” 

“Poor Molly, that quick temper of hers is 
always getting her into trouble ; but she is 
sure to repent bitterly,” said Mr. Rowe, as he 
followed his wife down-stairs. 

“ Do you know what’s in my mind ? ” said 
Mrs. Rowe, pausing on the landing, with an air 
of being about to say something startling. 
“I’m half inclined to take Weezy to church.” 

Mr. Rowe whistled. 

“ There must be a first time,” went on Mrs. 
Rowe ; “ and she might behave very well.” 

“ I’m willing to risk her if you are,” said Mr. 
Rowe, on reflection ; “ and I know it would 


1 8 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

gratify father to see the whole family in the 
pew.” 

“Weezy’s going to church ; oh, goody ! ” cried 
Kirke, clapping his hands at the news ; where- 
upon Weezy clapped hers also, though she had 
no more idea what ‘Agoing to church” meant 
than a baby heathen; She was highly pleased 
to be going anywhere in her cardinal velvet 
bonnet and cloak, and ready to make any num- 
ber of promises to be good. 

When, at the ringing of the church-bell, 
Molly stole down - stairs with red eyes and 
downcast lids, Weezy ran to take her hand ; 
and the three children walked together up 
the street, the little sister hopping along in the 
middle, as radiant as a young flamingo. Mr. 
and Mrs. Rowe in front of them, with grandpa, 
turned every now and then to smile upon the 
happy baby. 

‘‘I hope she won’t disgrace us to-day,” re- 
marked papa ; “ but I must confess I feel some- 


GOING TO CHURCH. 


19 


what as though we were taking a menagerie 
to church.” 

“A menagerie that has good intentions; yes, 
so do I,” laughed mamma nervously, pausing 
to help Weezy up the steps. 

The child’s ruff was askew; and while it 
was being straightened, and secured with a 
pin, grandpa went on up the broad aisle, and 
mounted the stairs to the pulpit. 

Weezy did not see him go ; but, the moment 
she was seated in the pew with the rest of 
the family, she missed him, and began to stare 
about her in every direction. Unfortunately, 
she was so short, and the pulpit was so tall, 
that she could not get so much as a glimpse 
of her grandpa’s head behind it. 

Poor gampa’s lost hisse’f,” thought she, 
distressed for a moment ; but she could not 
grieve long, where every thing around her was 
so grand and so strange. It was early yet, 
and she amused herself for some time in 


20 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


watching the colored light that streamed in 
through the stained east window. One red 
ray adorned the crown of Miss Blount’s bon- 
net in the seat in front ; another ray of green 
rested, like a plaster, on Deacon’s Crosby’s 
nose. Weezy wanted to laugh ; but she didn’t 
laugh, for she meant to be mamma’s goody 
girl.” 

All this time people were moving along 
the aisles and galleries to their pews. Weezy 
thought these galleries very queer. 

“What for do they have such high up pee- 
zaz-zas, mamma whispered she. 

“Hush, dear,” said mamma anxiously ; “folks 
mustn’t talk in church.” 

Weezy puckered up her lips like the rim 
of a wilted morning-glory, and sat as prim 
as a little nun till the organ sounded the 
first notes of the voluntary. 

“ Wind blows'' whispered she ; then, as the 
grand music pealed forth, she fairly quivered 


GOING TO CHURCH. 


2 


with delight, and sprang up to lean over the 
back of the pew, her brown eyes sparkling 
and her cheeks aglow. 

Mr. Rowe looked at her proudly, wonder- 
ing if there was ever a more bewitching child. 

Dear papa ! his look of pride soon changed 
to one of dismay ; for as the music ceased and 
Weezy turned, she saw her grandfather rising 
in the pulpit, and gave a little squeal of joy. 

I see gampa,’^ cried she, in her ringing, 
childish voice. “Look, papa; there s gampa, 
on the manty-piece.” 

It was rather droll to think of a grown-up 
minister tucked away on a mantle-piece, and 
several people smiled ; but grandpa Rowe read 
the hymn as solemnly as though he had not 
heard a word. 

Papa shook his head at Weezy, mamma put 
her finger on the child’s lip, and Molly looked 
ready to cry ; but merry little Kirke could not 
keep from laughing. He laughed till he had 


22 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


to stuff his handkerchief into his mouth ; and 
of course the more he laughed, the harder it 
was to control Weezy. 

The congregation now arose for the opening 
hymn ; and the moment Weezy heard her 
papa’s voice, she thought she ought surely to 
sing too. So with the best will in the world 
she struck up ‘^Little Sally Walker,” clear 
and high. 

Dear, well-meaning baby ! she had always 
before been called a goody girl for singing, 
and why didn’t mamma like it now^ What 
made mamma drag her out of church in such 
a hurry ? It was so queer ! 

Wretched Molly, left alone at the head of 
the pew, cowered over her hymn-book, shrink- 
ing from the eyes of the congregation. 

“O mamma, mamma! don’t you see how 
I felt ? ” sobbed she, an hour later, in her 
mother’s room, whither she had rushed from 
church to beg pardon for her angry words 


GOING TO CHURCH. 


23 


in the morning. I know everybody was 
thinking, ‘There sits that selfish, selfish Molly 
Rowe. Why didn’t she stay at home with 
her little sister, instead of letting her come 
to disturb the meeting 

“ Hush, dear : I don’t imagine they thought 
any such thing,” said her mother soothingly. 
“You were not to blame for Weezy’s actions.” 

“But, oh, mamma, you know you wouldn’t 
have taken her to church if I hadn’t been 
such a naughty, horrid girl. Sometimes, mam- 
ma, I can’t help being mad to think I’m so 
wicked.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 

There was a great bustle next morning at 
the Queen Anne cottage. Right after break- 
fast grandpa Rowe went away on the train ; 
next Lovisa appeared in the Braxton stage; 
and, lastly, the older children had to be helped 
off to school, for the fall term began that day. 

“ I tell you, Mrs. Rowe, it does seem good 
to see live children again,” said Lovisa, stand- 
ing in the doorway, with Weezy clinging to 
her gown. Kirke was frisking down the path 
on his toes : but stout little Molly walked 
with great dignity, in order not to spill the 
small phial of soapsuds strapped between her 
books. 


24 


\. THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 2 ? 

\ 

\ It was the fashion among the girls to carry 
soapsuds to school for washing their slates, 
and Molly had stained hers a lovely scarlet 
by soaking in it a scrap of red flannel. 

Turk go to 'cool, Molly go to 'c'ool, Weezy 
must go to 'c'ooly' wailed the little sister, in a 
spasm of lonesomeness. 

“Tut, tut ! Weezy wants to see what I have 
brought her in my bag, that’s what Weezy 
wants,” said Lovisa, taking the child up-stairs 
to give her a great scalloped seed-cake. 

“Funny old cooky, all wiggly!' cried Weezy, 
sitting down upon the broad window-seat to 
eat it. 

Pretty soon she spied a big pumpkin hood 
bobbing along under the window. A hood 
could not travel about of itself ; she knew that, 
and she pattered down to see what was beneath 
it. 

“ Her’s keer old girl, mamma : got pincoosstm 
on,” cried she, capering into the sitting-room. 


26 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“Ask Lovisa to give her something to eat,” 
said mamma, who had seen the beggar-maid 
pass. 

Weezy went skipping back. A few minutes 
later Mrs. Rowe found her perched on the 
kitchen table, looking on with great round 
eyes while the young stranger munched a 
slice of bread and butter. In all her little 
life Weezy had never before seen so droll a 
figure. No wonder she called the child’s head- 
covering a “pincushion.” It certainly did not 
look like a hood. It was made of rusty black 
cloth, and stuffed with cotton, which was 
bursting through in twenty places. 

“’Ittle dirl’s dess all waggetty^' chirped 
Weezy, pointing to the rents in the child’s 
gown. 

“ What is your name, my child ? ” asked 
Mrs. Rowe kindly. 

“Ellen Nolan,” answered the little vagrant ; 
and she went on to say that her father was 


THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 


27 


dead, and her mother had “ taken the sick- 
ness.” 

Where do you live ” continued Mrs. 
Rowe. 

‘‘Big tenement t’other end of Spruce Street,” 
said Ellen, with her mouth full. 

Sp' uce Stweet. Funny to say Spruce 
StweetP put in Weezy, listening with great 
interest. 

“I’ll find something for your mother,” said 
Mrs. Rowe, taking the child’s basket into the 
pantry. Next moment Weezy frisked after 
her. 

“ Her hasn’t no play sings ^ mamma. Can’t 
her have Weezy’s wabbit } ” 

“ If my little daughter gives away her rabbit, 
I’m afraid she will cry for it by and by,” said 
Mrs. Rowe, opening the cake-chest. 

“No, no. Weezy won’t kyl' 

“ Well, well ; run and get the rabbit, dear,” 
said her mamma; and Weezy brought the 


28 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


neglected animal, that had been lying under 
the piano on its cotton-flannel back. 

“ Now got diplaysingy' said she benev- 
olently, crowding it into Ellen Nolan’s basket, 
between a biscuit and a doughnut. 

Then, attracted by some musicians in the 
street, she scampered back to the sitting-room 
to join in the tunes. 

‘‘O mamma!” cried she, hopping up and 
down in ecstasy, ‘^hear the banders blowin’ 
moosic, and Weezy singin’ what they blows.” 

Having watched the players out of sight, 
she ran into the kitchen to entertain her 
guest; but the funny little beggar-maid had 
disappeared, — basket, “playsing,” and all. 

“ Her’s tooken away Weezy’s wabbitP sobbed 
the resentful baby, slipping through the door 
left ajar by Ellen. “Her’s a nuglyy naughty 
singP 

In three seconds more she was out of the 
yard. 


THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 


29 


“ Him was Weezy’s wabbit. ’Ittle dirl 
mustn’t keep Weezy’s wabbit alius,'' grumbled 
she, stubbing her indignant toes over the 
pavement. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Rowe had been hastening 
to wind the spools in her work-basket before 
her little daughter should return to tangle the 
threads. Presently she was struck by the un- 
usual stillness of the house, and went to see 
what the child was doing. 

‘'I took it for granted she was with you,” 
said Lovisa, appearing from the basement, 
where she had been at work ever since Ellen 
Nolan left. Isn’t she up-stairs } ” 

^^No: I’ve looked everywhere; and the 
porch door is open. I’m afraid she has run 
away.” 

“I’ll cut across to Cedar Street,” said Lo- 
visa, running out bareheaded. 

Seizing her bonnet, Mrs. Rowe hurried over 
to Mrs. Nye’s, in the hope that Weezy might 


30 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


be with Kisty ; but none of the family had 
seen her that day. More and more alarmed, 
Mrs. Rowe hastened on down the street. Pass- 
ing a group of laborers digging by the road- 
side, she remembered with a shudder that new 
water-pipes were being laid throughout the 
city. What if her baby had fallen into one 
of the deep trenches opened for these.? En- 
tering the nearest drug-store, she telephoned 
to her husband that Weezy was missing ; and 
then, at a loss what further to do, ran home 
again to learn the result of Lovisa’s search. 

All this time Weezy was enjoying the world. 
April child that she was, she soon forgot her 
tears ; and catching sight of a small white dog, 
with long silky hair hanging over its eyes, 
she trudged along behind him, talking to her- 
self. 

*‘You’s a keer doggy: ought to be 'shamey” 
said she. “ Hair all snarled up ! ” 

Following the dog into Main Street, she 


THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 


31 


Stared with happy wonder at the gay shops on 
either side. A gaudy barber’s pole especially 
pleased her. 

You’s got pitty scarf,” said she, hugging it, 
and trying to pick off the painted stripes. 

My stars alive, what little creetur is this ! ” 
exclaimed a policeman, spying her. 

‘‘ Ts papa’s ’ittle Fidget,” said she promptly, 
pleased with his uniform, 

“ And where does your father live } ” 

“Way, way off.” 

“Yes, yes; but what street does he live on, 
little girl } ” 

“ Sfuce Stweet” answered Weezy, suddenly 
remembering the funny name Ellen Nolan had 
spoken. 

“Spruce Street.? You don’t mean to say 
you’ve walked bareheaded all the way from 
Spruce Street .? ” asked the puzzled policeman. 
“ Why, it’s more’n a mile ! ” 

“ Weezy don’t want to be talkin’, talkin’ all 


32 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


a time ! ” cried she pettishly ; “ ’tisn’t plite. 
That’s what my mamma says ! ” 

“Think a minute, little miss. Don’t you live 
on Pine Street } ” 

“Weezy says her lives on Sp’uce Stweet,” 
cried the little witch impatiently. 

“ Oh, so your name’s Weezy ! What’s the 
rest of it ” 

“ I’s Weezy Wozy,” said she, playing with a 
nutshell in the gutter. 

“ Wools ey, she means, I guess,” mused the 
man. “I’ll take her to Mr. Woolsey’s on 
Spruce Street. He has children.” 

Stepping upon a horse-car that moment pass- 
ing, he soon reached the house, with Weezy 
in his arms. 

“ Here’s where your father lives,” said he, 
ringing the bell. 

“ No, him don' ty' cried Weezy, nibbling a 
peppermint-drop given her by the policeman. 

That instant she caught a glimpse of Ellen 


THE PUMPKIN HOOD. 


33 


Nolan plodding homeward with her heavy 
basket. 

“ Her’s got Weezy’s zvabbit” cried she, 
springing down and running toward her, 
while the policeman followed with long 
strides. 

“Do you know where this child lives, my 
girl } ” asked he, laying his hand on Ellen’s 
shoulder. “ If you’ll show me the way to her 
house, I’ll give you a dime.” 

“Yes, I’ll show you soon’s I’ve left my bas- 
ket,” said she, rushing in at a neighboring door, 
and coming out empty-handed. 

“ You’s got a playsmgy hasn’t you } ” prattled 
Weezy, as she walked along with the policeman 
and Ellen. “ Weezy don’t want wabbit now. 
Weezy’s got pepnits'' 

And when, a few moments later, her mother 
clasped her to her heart with tears of joy, 
Weezy said, “ Poor mamma ! pepnits make 
mamma feel besser.'' And that was all the 


34 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


little gypsy realized about the anxiety she had 
caused. 

Then papa and Lovisa hurried in, followed 
by Kirke and Molly fresh from school ; and 
Ellen Nolan afterwards told her mother that 
she never saw the like of the fuss made over 
that baby. 

As to Ellen herself, she went home the 
proudest girl on Spruce Street ; for Mrs. Rowe 
had given her a neat gingham dress of Molly’s, 
and a brown straw hat with ^‘a stick-up feather, 
fire red!' 


CHAPTER IV. 


weezy’s pickle. 

“ If Weezy is going to be in the habit of 
running away, I think we’d better let people 
know where she belongs,” said Mr. Rowe one 
morning, after the child had been brought 
back by the policeman. 

Accordingly he went to his writing-desk, 
and printed on a correspondence-card, in big, 
black letters : — 


MR. EDWIN H. ROWE, 

No. 6 Oak Street. 


He pinned the card to the back of Weezy’s 
dress, right between the shoulders ; and after 


35 


36 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


that, as long as the warm weather lasted, it 
was pinned there every day. Weezy was 
rather proud of the badge. Kirke called it 
“Weezy’s guideboard.” 

She did not run away again that fall ; for no 
better reason, it is to be feared, than that she 
could not turn the new button that her papa 
had put on the gate. When it grew too cold 
to play in the yard, she became so restless 
and mischievous that even Lovisa lost patience. 

I’ve always said I liked live children, Mrs. 
Rowe,” cried she, bursting into the sitting- 
room one day, half-scolding, half-laughing ; 
“but when it comes to their crawling into my 
flour-barrel, they’re too lively for me.” 

“ I isn’t lively little dirl, mamma : I wanted 
to be white little dirl, just like Coopid'' 
sneezed Weezy, capering behind Lovisa, pow- 
dered with flour to her waist. 

“ O Weezy, Weezy ! ” cried mamma, trying 
not to smile at the white little image, which 


IVEEZV'S PICKLE. 


37 


certainly did resemble the marble Cupid in 
the library. 

She did not feel in the least like smiling 
when it came to brushing the flour from the 
child’s hair ; neither did Weezy, for the pro- 
cess was long and tedious, hardly finished by 
dinner-time. 

The little rogue will wear you all out, 
Mary,” said Mr. Rowe, after laughing heartily 
over Weezy’s prank. ^‘You really need a 
nurse-girl.” 

If we could find some child to amuse 
Weezy while Molly and Kirke are at school, 
it would be a great relief,” said Mrs. Rowe. 
“I have been wondering whether it would do 
to trust Ellen Nolan.” 

“Ah, I understand,” returned Mr. Rowe 
playfully: “you want to help yourself a little 
by helping Ellen a great deal ! That is just 
your way. Well, why not take Ellen a week 
on trial ? ” 


38 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


Would you ? ” asked Mrs. Rowe. Per- 
haps I’d better.” 

Ellen came the very next Monday, and 
proved so useful about amusing Weezy that 
Mrs. Rowe was glad to have her come every 
day during the winter, to remain from eight 
o’clock until four. 

She was still with the Rowes, when the 
first of March arrived, bringing the Rev. Mr. 
Cutler’s birthday. 

“We have invited Mr. Cutler to dine with 
us to-day, Ellen,” Mrs. Rowe said to her 
that morning, “and I want the dining-room 
kept tidy. You and Weezy can play in the 
sitting-room ; but remember, you must not go 
into the dining-room.” 

“ No’m,” replied Ellen rather crossly. “ If 
the minister is coming, they’ll have out the 
new pink china dishes, and them pretty silver 
spoons with gold inside of ’em,” she was 
thinking to herself. “And I say it’s real 


WEEZY'S PICKLE. 


39 


mean of Mrs. Rowe not to let me go in and 
see the table sjit'' 

Of course, this was wrong, besides being 
silly ; but Ellen dearly loved fine things, and 
she had handled so very, very few of them ! 

As she built block houses for Weezy, it 
drove her nearly wild to hear the rattling of 
the dinner-service ; and by and by, when she 
knew Lovisa had gone into the kitchen to 
see about the pudding, she opened the dining- 
room door, — “ the least crack,” you know, — 
and peeped in. 

Weezy always did what Ellen did : so she 
peeped too. 

Weezy mustn’t go in,” said Ellen, with 
a longing look at the silver fruit-stand on 
the sideboard. 

^‘Yes, yes; her mtist” cried little Weezy, 
who had not thought of going in till Ellen 
spoke, as the crafty nurse-girl very well 
knew. 


40 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“Her must go,” repeated Weezy, stamping 
her foot. 

“Well, then, hush. Don’t make a teenty- 
tonty speck of noise,” whispered Ellen, throw- 
ing the door wide open. 

“Her mother doesn’t want her to cry, and 
get her eyes and nose all red when there’s 
company coming, now, does she } ” reasoned 
Ellen. “If Mrs. Rowe should happen to 
catch us in here, I could say I couldn’t make 
Miss Weezy stay in the sitting-room best I 
could do.” 

But, dear me ! Ellen didn’t have a bit of a 
good time after she crossed that forbidden 
threshold. While she stopped to examine the 
little silver owl that was really a pepper-box, 
Weezy tipped over the silver cat that sprinkled 
salt through its head. And she had hardly 
brushed the tablecloth clean before Weezy 
was in the closet, dipping her fingers into 
the pickle-jar. Worse than that, in the second 



WEEZY TURNED HER BACK UPON ELLEN, AND PLAYED WITH THE NOSE OF THE 

TEAPOT.” — PAGE 4I. 








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IVEEZV'S PICKLE. 


41 


of time it took to replace the cover of the jar, 
Weezy seized the best silver teapot, and ran 
away with it. 

“Oh, give it back to me, Weezy; do give 
it back to me ! ” begged Ellen, following in 
great distress. She dared not snatch the tea- 
pot, lest it might be injured; besides, Weezy 
would scream, and that would bring her mam- 
ma, who was up in her room dressing for 
dinner. 

Weezy turned her back upon Ellen, and 
played with the nose of the teapot. “ I’s 
making tea,” said she roguishly, “nice tea for 
papa.” 

“ Weezy Rowe, you horrid, provoking little 
wretch ! ” muttered Ellen, at her wits’ end. 

Hark ! Mrs. Rowe was leaving her chamber. 
She would come right down and find them in 
the dining-room, and she would know Weezy 
couldn’t have turned the door-knob herself. 
Oh ! oh ! 


42 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Such a state of mind as Ellen was in at 
that moment ! It is impossible to say what 
she would have done if Mr. Cutler had not 
just then walked up the path, and attracted 
Weezy’s attention. 

The little rogue dropped the teapot in a 
hurry, and darted to the long window that 
opened on the front piazza, exclaiming, — 

“ The goody man has come. I must go see 
the goody man.” 

Ellen whisked the teapot into the closet, 
and Weezy out of the window, before Mr. 
Cutler had mounted the steps ; and she had 
closed the window and opened the front door 
in the time that he was saying, — 

‘‘Well, and how does little Miss Weezy 
do .? ” 

And she was demurely taking the minister’s 
hat when Mrs. Rowe descended the stairs. 

“ There, didn’t I get out of that fix well } ” 
mused Ellen, hurrying Weezy back to her 


WEEZY^S PICKLE. 


43 


blocks. ‘‘ Nobody in the house will know that 
I didn’t mind Mrs. Rowe.” 

Sly, foolish Ellen ! Before dinner was over 
everybody in the house, from grave Mr. Cut- 
ler to frolicsome little Kirke, knew all about 
it. It was the teapot that told. 

The pudding had been served, and Mrs. 
Rowe had asked Mr. Cutler whether he pre- 
ferred tea or coffee. 

“I’ll take a cup of tea, if you please,” he 
replied ; and then he went on talking to Molly 
about her school. 

Mrs. Rowe tipped the teapot, but no tea 
came out of the spout. 

“ What can this mean ? ” thought she. 
“ There certainly must be tea enough, or 
the teapot would not be so heavy.” 

She kept tipping it more and more. Sud- 
denly a dark object flew out, followed by a 
deluge of tea. The object was about as large 
as Kirke’s little finger. It flew right into 


44 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


the minister’s plate, and there it lay, — a wee 
cucumber pickle. 

Mrs. Rowe was too mortified to speak ; but 
Weezy clapped her hands, crying, — 

“See Weezy’s stopper. Weezy put it in, 
all nice.” 

“I suppose the funny stopper must be a 
present to me,” laughed the minister; while 
shamefaced little Ellen brought him a clean 
plate, and Lovisa took away the soiled tray- 
cloth. 

“ The teapot was in order at breakfast-time, 
and how Weezy has found a chance to med- 
dle with it is a mystery,” said Mrs. Rowe, 
trying to laugh. “ She couldn’t have done ^ 
it since Ellen came at nine o’clock, for I 
charged Ellen not to let her go into the din- 
ing-room.” 

Mr. Cutler did not say a word. He pur- 
posely fixed his eyes on Lovisa, just then 
bringing in fresh tea in an earthen teapot. 


WEEZY^S ETCKLE. 


45 


But Ellen knew that he knew of her disobedi- 
ence, and she was so ashamed that she began 
to cry ; and after that everybody understood 
the story of the teapot. 


CHAPTER V. 


DICKERY, DICKERY, DOCK. 

A FEW days after the dinner-party Ellen Nolan 
went home, ill with the mumps. This left 
Weezy without a playmate, and with so much 
spare time on her hands that she immediately 
began to turn her attention to housework. 

It was all very well so long as she con- 
tented herself with rolling out cookies on 
her little cake-board, and cutting them with 
a thimble ; but, when she aspired to be chief 
cook, it was hard for herself and hard for 
Lovisa. 

“First she salts the hot apple-sauce, and 
next she burns her fingers stirring the salt 
in,” cried Lovisa one morning, carrying her, 

46 


DICKERY, DICKERY, DOCK, 


47 


wailing, into the sitting-room. “She’s a 
dreadful capable child.” 

“Yes, Lovisa, I agree with you. She’s 
capable of most any thing,” said Mr. Rowe 
gayly, as he tossed Weezy up to the ceiling. 

His little daughter’s exploits usually amused 
him, and he wondered that they should annoy 
Mrs. Rowe and Lovisa ; but that noon, on 
coming home and finding that Weezy had 
learned how to unlock his writing-desk, he was 
not at all amused. 

“This’ll never do, Mary,” said he to his wife, 
“ I can’t have her meddling with my papers. 
She’ll be damaging them.” 

“What! can Weezy open the desk.^” said 
Mrs. Rowe, who had been busy up-stairs. 
“ We must teach her not to touch it.” 

“It will be a difficult lesson for her,” said 
Mr. Rowe, locking the desk. “I believe it 
will be easier, as well as safer, to put the 
key where she can’t get it.” 


48 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


If such a place is to be found,” said Mrs. 
Rowe, smiling. 

“ I flatter myself that such a place is to be 
found ; and, moreover, I flatter myself that I 
have found it,” said Mr. Rowe, smiling too, 
as he hung the key above the tall clock be- 
side the desk. “There, the little squirrel 
won’t reach that nail this year, or next,” 
added he triumphantly ; and he followed his 
wife to the dining-room, where the three 
children were waiting for their dinner. 

Molly was in high spirits. Mr. Nye had 
brought her home from school in his new 
dog-cart, and he had promised some day to 
take his little daughter Kisty and Weezy and 
herself to drive in the park. Could they go } 
Oh, did her mother think they could ? 

Then Kirke had his story to tell about Miss 
Bailey, his favorite teacher, who that morning 
had been summoned to the bedside of her sick 
mother ; and about Miss Cumstan, the new 


DICKER Y, DICKER Y, DOCK 49 

substitute, that couldn’t keep order. During 
a recitation Jimmy Maguire had crawled half 
way down the aisle to say that Ben Cugley 
would sell his toy printing-press for three 
dollars. Might Kirke buy it ? Oh, did his 
father think he might ? 

The lively chat continued through the meal, 
and nothing more was said or thought about 
the key to the writing-desk. After dinner Mr. 
Rowe went to his office, and Molly and Kirke 
hurried to school, leaving Weezy in the sitting- 
room tending Sambo. Mrs. Rowe had gone 
up-stairs to finish mending a curtain, when 
Weezy frisked into the dining-room, clutching 
Sambo by the button of his cap. 

See poor ’ittle Sambo, ’Visa,” cried she, 
in a tone of the deepest sympathy. “Sambo’s 
got ’e mumps, dust like Ellen.” 

“Dear, dear! if the little fellow has got the 
mumps, he must stay where it’s warm,” cried 
Lovisa, hastening to clear away the table. 


50 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


“ Take him back to the fire this minute, and 
here’s a lump of sugar for him.” 

“The sugar will keep Weezy out of mischief 
long enough for me to wash the silver,” mused 
she, bringing a bowl of hot water. 

“ Dess Weezy’ll wock Sambo. Dess him 
feel besser,” prattled Weezy, running off to 
her little rocking-chair in one corner of the 
sitting-room. 

. As she swayed to and fro with the ailing 
doll in her arms, she all at once spied the 
key over the clock. It looked very odd there, 
very much out of place. 

“ Oh, my ’tars ! ” cried she, greatly aston- 
ished. “ What for’s papa’s key filed up so 
high, you b’lieve ? Oh, hum ! wiss I’s a big, 
bouncin’ nangel, so I’d go up and get it.” 

She looked at Sambo in her lap. Surely 
he was not an angel, but why couldn’t he 
knock down the key as well as anybody ? 
Dancing across the floor, she tossed him as 


DTCKERY, DICKER Y, DOCK. 


51 


high as she could. That was as high as the 
writing-desk, and he fell upon the top of it, 
flat upon his flat nose. 

“ Oh, hum ! ” muttered Weezy, climbing into 
a chair, “ ’spect Ts got to go mysef^ 

“ Lie ’till. Sambo ; Ts di-toinm” she cried, 
scrambling from the chair to the broad ledge 
of the desk. She stood upon the ledge a 
moment, resting her chin upon the shelf where 
Sambo lay. “ Dess I tan det it. Weezy isn’t 
’ittle 'fraid dirl^' said she cheerily, preparing 
to mount. 

Clinging to the rail of the desk, she climbed 
up beside the doll, and, springing to her feet, 
reached for the key. She could just touch 
it with the tips of her fingers. 

“Oh, dee., dee! wiss Weezy’s arm was growed 
bigger,” fretted she, scowling down upon Sam- 
bo, still flat upon his nose. 

Ah, ha! There was another way to make 
him of service. She could use him for a 
cricket. 


52 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


How her mamma would have shuddered if 
she had seen her little girl at that moment, 
poised on tiptoe upon Sambo’s back ! But 
Weezy was agile as a kitten. She did not 
fall, though she presently made the key fall 
with a clatter. 

A few minutes later Lovisa peeped in at 
the door, and discovered the writing-desk open, 
and Weezy busily cutting paper dolls out of 
one of her father’s deeds. 

When Mrs. Rowe showed them to him at 
tea-time, Mr. Rowe was a good deal vexed. 

“That was an important deed, Mary, and 
the loss of it will cause me much trouble,” 
said he. “ How did Weezy get hold of the 
key of the desk } ” 

“ Dickery, dickery, dock. 

The mouse ran up the clock,” 

answered Mrs. Rowe with a grave smile. 

“ Do you mean to say that baby helped her- 
self to the key.^” cried Mr. Rowe, actually 


DICKER V, DICKER Y, DOCK. 


53 


turning pale. “It’s a mercy that she didn’t 
break her neck.” 

“Poh! I don’t think that was much of a 
climb,” said Kirke. “ Weezy’s twice as spry 
as Molly.” 

“She’s rather too spry, and altogether too 
daring, like a certain small boy that I know,” 
said Mr. Rowe. 

“You were right, Mary; we must teach 
Weezy not to meddle with things, for it is 
plain that we can’t put things beyond her 
reach.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

UNKER docker’s BEARD. 

Weezy’s Sambo had hardly rallied from the 
mumps when she herself was attacked by the 
same disease. One afternoon her face and 
throat began to swell, and by the next morn- 
ing she looked like a fat young Eskimo. 

“ Oh, ho ! What a cheeky little girl ! I 
never saw a little girl so cheeky,” cried 
Kirke, laughing merrily, at his first glimpse 
of her, bolstered up in her mother’s bed. 

I isn’t sheeky ’ittle girl. Make him ’top, 
mamma,” moaned wretched little Weezy, be- 
ginning to cry. 

Now, mamma, I didn’t mean to tease her. 
I didn’t, honest!' exclaimed Kirke, balancing 


54 


UNKER DOCKER'S BEARD. 


55 


himself across the foot-board. “ She cries as 
easy as a wink.” 

“ Oh, she does, does she ^ ” said Dr. Wyman, 
bustling in. “ Well, my young man, we must 
forgive her. Mumps seldom make people 
jolly.” 

linker Docker, I don’t want any more - 
mumps,” wailed Weezy, reaching out both 
hands. 

One held the comb with which she had been 
arranging Viola Maud’s blonde wig. Viola 
Maud was the lovely great wax doll that 
Mrs. Rowe called “her own,” and /en^ to 
Weezy only when the little girl was ill or 
unhappy. 

“ Of course you don’t want any more 
mumps, dearie, and so you’re going to 
stay in mamma’s room, and keep quiet,” 
said her uncle cheerfully, sitting down be- 
side the bed. 

“But the mumps is /lere, unker Docker. 


56 


LITTLE MISS IVEEZY, 


They’s got replied Weezy, in a dis- 

couraged tone. 

“ Is that so } ” asked Dr. Wyman, pretending 
to be very serious. “Then, I tell you what 
we’ll do to get ’em out. We’ll take some 
castor-oil. Mumps don’t like castor-oil.” 

“ Don’t they ? ” said Weezy, deeply inter- 
ested. 

“ I was afraid she would object to taking 
medicine, and I am agreeably disappointed,” 
thought the doctor, sending Kirke at once 
for a teaspoon, and a little milk in an egg- 
glass. 

But when Dr. Wyman had poured some oil 
into the milk, and brought it to Weezy, it be- 
came evident that there had been a misunder- 
standing. 

“ No, no. Unker Docker take slippy oil his- 
sef Unker Docker make naughty mumps go 
’way. Weezy don’t want slippy oil,” cried she, 
putting her hands over her mouth. 


(INKER DOCKER'S BEARD. 


57 


Plainly she reasoned that, provided the medi- 
cine was swallowed, it did not matter who 
swallowed it ; and if linker Docker had not 
meant to do his part in driving out the mumps, 
why had he said, “ We /I take some castor-oil ” ? 

Dr. Wyman disliked to scold a little girl 
who looked so feverish and heavy-eyed, and 
he began to talk to Weezy in a coaxing 
manner. 

*‘Come, darling,” said he, “if you’ll take 
this like a good little lady, the minute you 
are well. I’ll give you a nice long ride.” 

Weezy shook her head, being sufficiently 
shrewd to know that she could have the 
drive without the medicine. 

“Well, if you’ll take it. I’ll tell you a 
story.” 

“A great long ’tory,” said Weezy, pricking 
up her ears; “a ’tory long as this house 

“Not quite as long as this house, perhaps,” 
returned Dr. Wyman, “but as long as, — as a 


58 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

hen-house, we’ll say. It’s a story about a 
chicken.” 

“About a truly chicken — a egg-chicken ? ” 

“ Yes, about a truly egg-chicken. Now, 
open your mouth.” 

“ And may I comb j/ous whixers all the time 
what you’s telling ? ” persisted Weezy, pausing 
with the cup at her lips. 

“Yes, yes,” said her uncle with a wry face ; 
for his whiskers were nearly as long as 
Weezy’s arm, and he always winced when 
she dragged the comb through them. 

Without another word, Weezy shut her 
eyes, and emptied the glass. After Kirke 
had carried the teaspoon and glass down- 
stairs, and gone off to school. Dr. Wyman 
began his story : — 

“Chicken Little came to town very unex- 
pectedly ” — 

“Did he wideV interrupted his listener, 
flourishing her brush. 


UNKER DOCKERYS BEARD. 


59 


“Yes. He rode all wrapped up in an egg- 
shell blanket. If you don’t believe it, you can 
ask my aunt Lovejoy, when she comes this 
summer. She lives in Indianapolis ; and the 
first call Chicken Little made in the city, he 
made at her house.” 

“ Who did he call ” asked Weezy, beginning 
to braid her uncle’s beard into little tails. 

“ Whom did he call Oh, he called aunt 
Lovejoy ! ” replied Dr. Wyman, laughing to 
himself. “You see, this was how it happened. 
It was a hot morning, and aunt Lovejoy was 
in the kitchen, stirring up a pudding for din- 
ner, when Tilly — Tilly was her German girl 
— came home from market with a basket of 
eggs. Tilly set the basket on the table, and 
went round to the corner-grocery for some- 
thing, — a yeast-cake, I think it likely: they 
eat bread at aunt Lovejoy’s.” 

“ Course ! ” put in Weezy, with disdain. 

“Yes, sometimes it’s coarse, and then again 


6o 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


sometimes it is fine,” continued her teasing 
uncle. “ Well, all this while, you must under- 
stand, aunt Lovejoy was going on, stirring 
her pudding ; and, as she stirred, she kept 
hearing a little sharp, clicking noise. At first, 
she supposed it was made by her spoon hit- 
ting the bowl ; but, when she stopped stirring, 
she heard the noise just the same, and it 
seemed to come from the market-basket on 
the table. Aunt Lovejoy said to herself, that 
there must be a dreadful ringing in her ears ; 
and I’ve no doubt she blamed her doctor for 
having given her so much quinine. But be- 
fore she finished stoning her raisins, the 
sound had grown so loud, that she ran to 
the basket. As she raised the cover, some- 
thing said to her, “ Peep, peep ! ” 

I know, linker Docker, I know ! ” shouted 
Weezy, forgetting her sore throat. “ Chicken 
’Ittle was in the haxetr 

“ What a bright girl ! How could you 


UNKER DOCKER'S BEARD. 


6l 


guess!” said her uncle. “Yes; you are right. 
There sat Chicken Little in an egg-shell, 
sticking his yellow head out just far enough 
to play ‘peek-a-boo’ with aunt Lovejoy.” 

“ Had he got his eyes open } ” asked Weezy 
anxiously, thinking of her blind kitten. 

“ Got his eyes open 1 I should say he had, 
— and his mouth too!” answered Dr. Wyman, 
cringing at an unexpected snarl in his beard. 
“ Don’t you believe the little fellow was 
glad to find somebody to speak to, that was 
alive ? Those eggs must have been poor com- 
pany for a wide-awake chicken.” 

“ How did he get out ? ” asked Weezy, 
bringing her uncle back to the main point. 

“After a while, he droke out. He pecked 
and pecked with his bill, till he had made a 
hole in the egg-shell, big .enough to squeeze 
through ; and then he marched forth, stretch- 
ing his wings, first one, and then the other, 
to show aunt Lovejoy how yellow and downy 


62 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


they were. He was pretty hungry by this 
time : so aunt Lovejoy mixed some corn-meal 
and water in a cup, and ” — 

Here the door flew open, and Kirke dashed 
in, crying,— 

“ Come, quick, uncle Doctor ! Oh, please 
come quick as ever you can ! My teacher’s 
most killed ! Not Miss Cumstan, but pretty 
Miss Bailey ! ” 

Where have they taken her } ” asked Dr. 
Wyman, with a rueful glance at his beard, 
hopelessly tangled into six little tails, which 
Weezy called braids. 

“ Into my class-room. She came back to 
school only this morning, and a horse and 
carriage got frightened and ran into her,” 
sobbed Kirke, half frantic. “They sent me 
and another boy to bring you. O uncle, do 
hurry ! ” 

“ I will, ril go this instant,” said he, rising. 

He had been hastily attempting to comb 


UNKER DOCKER'S BEARD. 


63 


out the braids ; but he now threw down the 
comb in despair, and seized his hat. 

“ I look like a picture in a comic almanac,” 
thought he, as he pressed on with the boys ; 
‘‘but that is no reason why I should keep 
that suffering girl waiting.” 

“They say Miss Bailey’s broken her bones,” 
Kirke further explained as they drew near the 
schoolhouse. “She’s fainted all in a heap.” 

When Dr. Wyman entered the class-room, 
she had rallied from the fainting fit, and her 
arm was paining her severely. She was so 
weak and nervous, that at sight of tall, dig- 
nified Dr. Wyman, with his beard plaited like 
a girl’s hair, she began to laugh, though it 
mortified her to be so rude. 

“ I wear my whiskers in this style because 
my little niece is ill, Miss Bailey,” said the 
doctor humorously. “ Now, if you please. I’ll 
examine your arm.” 

It proved to be a small bone that had been 


64 


LITTLE MISS IVEEZY. 


fractured, and he was glad to be able to assure 
Miss Bailey that in a few weeks she would be 
as well as ever. Having properly attended to 
the arm, and promised to call the next day, 
Dr. Wyman went home through a back street, 
and spent a whole hour, by the clock, in 
smoothing out the comical little braids under 
his chin. 


CHAPTER VII. 


weezy’s sambo. 

Mr. Rowe was fond of fun, and he seized 
the first opportunity to joke Dr. Wyman on 
his droll adventure. 

“Ah, doctor, I understand you’re getting 
so vain, that, before calling upon the ladies, 
you have your beard crimped ! ” said he, over- 
taking him on the street. “ I suppose next 
you’ll be having it rolled on curl-papers.” 

“ I suppose I shall if my fair young barber 
so wills it,” replied Dr. Wyman sportively. 
“ I only hope she won’t prefer to curl it with 
tongs.” 

“ Very well, if you choose to let Weezy 
make a guy of you, why you can,” said 

65 


66 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Mr. Rowe good-naturedly ; “ but one thing 
is certain, I sha’n’t let her make a guy of 
meT 

“ Don’t be too sure of it : she may take you 
unaware,” returned the doctor with a smile, 
as Mr. Rowe entered his own door. 

Weezy had come down-stairs that morning 
so nearly well that Viola Maud had been 
wrapped in tissue paper and laid away. 
Weezy did not miss her much, she had so 
many dolls of her own. Indeed, she had more 
than she could keep properly supplied with 
features and limbs ; for the six had only four 
noses among them, and not half enough arms 
to go round. 

“You’s cross ’ittle girl, Eva, snarled yous 
face all up,” said Weezy, climbing to the sit- 
ting-room window-sill with her bruised gutta- 
percha baby. ‘‘ D’ess all tored, too. Oh, I 
be ’shame ! Now you mus’ clean house for 
punish you.” 


WEEZY^S SAMBO. 


67 


She began to rub the doll up and down the 
glass in a brisk way, extremely annoying to 
Kirke, upon the sofa taking his turn with 
mumps. 

‘‘You call that fun, miss, do you.^” growled 
he, from . the depths of the afghan. 

“Oh, defful fun; but this is ftinneVy^ cried 
she with provoking sweetness, turning Eva 
upside down to polish the window-pane with 
her head. 

“ Oh, do stop that racket, Weezy ! it makes 
my head ache. Please run out and see the 
kitties.” 

“Oh, ho! I 'most didn't think 'bout the 
kitties,” exclaimed Weezy, throwing down the 
doll, and skipping away to the cat’s basket in 
the back entry. 

There were three kittens, — two white, and 
one gray all except a white spot at the tip 
of his tail. The gray was Weezy’s favorite. 
She waked this from its morning nap, and 


68 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


pulled it out. of its warm nest to carry it to 
Kirke. 

“ Loot ! he’s the tip-tail kitty ! He makes 
up faces ; he can’t help hissefP said she chari- 
tably. 

“ Help himself ! I should like to see the 
poor little fellow help himself, when you pick 
him up by the neck that way,” cried Kirke 
scornfully, raising himself on his elbow. 

“Kitty’s mamma picks kitty up that way 
wiv her mouf: I sawed her,” retorted Weezy 
triumphantly. 

Dropping her little mewing burden upon 
the lounge beside her brother, she suddenly 
discovered that the kitty’s eyelids had parted 
far enough to disclose a glimmer of blue. 

“ Oh, loot, loot ! ” shouted she, hopping up 
and down in transport. “ Kitty’s eyes is un- 
shuttin ! Kitty’s eyes is unshuttin’ ! ” 

“ Is that a fact, little girl } Why, why, 
you don’t say so ! ” cried her father, who had 


WEEZY'S SAMBO. 69 

that moment parted from Dr. Wyman at the 
gate. 

‘‘ They is, papa, they truly is,'' cried 
Weezy, trying to blow open kitty’s three- 
cornered eyelids as she had seen Molly blow 
open the petals of a rose-bud. 

Stop, stop, little daughter,” called Mr. 
Rowe, laughing. ‘‘ Her eyes are not like blue 
gentians ; you can’t pry into them without 
hurting kitty. I’d give her back to her 
mother, and run and find Sambo.” 

Sambo was Weezy’s pet doll, made of wors- 
ted yarn, — pink face, blue jacket, yellow trous- 
ers, and all. It injured other members of her 
family to be dipped into the bath-tub, or 
dumped into the coal-hod ; but Sambo could 
bear rough treatment, he was so strong and 
well-knit. Oh, he was a doll to be depended 
on ! And from the crown of his red cap to 
the soles of his green shoes, Weezy loved every 
inch of him. Yet on occasion she could dis- 


70 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


cipline him strictly ; and when after a long 
hunt she found him under the hall mat, she 
shook him till one of his bead eyes fell off. 

“ What for, Sambo, you yun away and hide ? ” 
scolded she. “ I shall be ’bliged to tie Sambo, 
for ’cause Sambo didn’t mind.” 

But to what should she tie the naughty little 
wretch .? 

Frisking about the hall, she spied upon the 
hat-tree her father’s overcoat. She could just 
reach the buttons on its back. 

“Does you see that button. Sambo.?” said she 
severely. “Well, I’s going to tie you to that 
button till you’s a good boy. I’s sowwy to hurt 
you, Sambo, but I does it iox yons goo 

As she talked, she was winding the ends of 
Sambo’s scarf around the button ; and she ran 
in to dinner, leaving the poor doll swinging 
to and fro like a queer kind of tassel. 

Mr. Rowe chanced to be in haste that noon ; 
and before Weezy had finished her plate of 


WEEZY'S SAMBO. 


71 


custard-pudding, he asked to be excused from 
the table, and went out into the hall to get 
ready to go down-town. It was so dark there 
that he put on his overcoat without noticing 
what was attached to it. Then he caught up 
his hat and gloves, and stepped briskly into the 
street with Sambo bobbing up and down behind 
him. 

The faster Mr. Rowe walked, the higher 
Sambo jumped and kicked. Oh, it was very, 
very funny! Jimmy Maguire laughed so hard 
at the sight that he rolled off the door-step 
where he had been sitting. A group of boys 
on the corner shouted and clapped their hands. 
Mr. Rowe could not see any thing to laugh 
at : he wondered what all the excitement was 
about. He might have gone the entire length 
of Main Street with Sambo’s yellow legs dan- 
cing a jig at his back, if he had not at the 
next crossing come upon Dr. Wyman, waiting 
for a street-car. 


72 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


“ Good-afternoon,” said the doctor, with a 
roguish twinkle in his eye. “ I hope you and 
your friend are enjoying your walk.” 

“Friend! What friend.^ I fail to see the 
joke,” returned Mr. Rowe, wheeling so abrupt- 
ly that Sambo bounced against him, and struck 
him between the shoulders. 

“ It’s a joke that Weezy has had a hand in, 
I fancy,” said Dr. Wyman, chuckling, as Mr. 
Rowe gazed savagely about for the person 
who had hit him. “Turn your head, my stiff- 
necked friend ; now look down, and try to see 
yourself as others see you.” 

When Mr. Rowe beheld Sambo swaying 
backward and forward like the pendulum of 
a clock, he could not help laughing himself, 
though his face grew very red. 

“ I must say I’ve cut a pretty figure, and I 
don’t blame the boys for shouting,” said he, 
groping behind him for the doll. “ Do, doctor, 
tear the thing off somehow. Quick, for here 


WEEZY'S SAMBO. 


73 


comes your car, with thirty pairs of eyes in 
it.” 

Dr. Wyman speedily unwound the scarf, 
and presented Sambo to Mr. Rowe with a 
bow, saying jestingly, “Ah, you are the gen- 
tleman, I believe, who an hour ago boasted 
that Weezy shouldn’t make a guy of him ! ” 

Mr. Rowe shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve 
half a mind to toss this ridiculous image 
into the gutter,” said he, as Dr. Wyman swung 
himself upon the car. But then he thought 
of his little daughter ; and, instead of throwing 
Sambo away, he crammed him, head first, into 
his pocket. 

“ I’ll take him home to Weezy this time,” 
said he to himself; “but if she ever hangs him 
on to my coat-tail again. I’ll burn him up, cap 
and boots.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 
weezy’s figs. 

“ Well, Kirke, my lad, you need not mope 
indoors any longer,” said Dr. Wyman, calling 
in at the Rowes the next Monday morning. 
“ I pronounce you quite well enough to go to 
school.” 

“ Rather stay at home, a great sight,” mut- 
tered Kirke, playing with the tip-tail kit- 
ten.” 

‘^Nonsense! Why, I thought you liked to 
go to school.” 

“ Did like it when Miss Bailey was there ; 
but now they’ve put that tall, strapping Miss 
Cumstan in her place, and” — 

“ And Miss Cumstan is to blame, I suppose, 


74 


WEEZY^S FIGS. 


75 


for being tall and strapping, — whatever that 
may be.” 

“ Oh, she’s homely, and she’s cross ; and, 
besides all that, she’s mean ! She bangs the 
boys against the piano, and gets it out of 
tune, and then, sir, she makes ’em pay for 
tuning it.” 

Easy, my boy, easy. Mustn’t tell tales,” 
said Dr. Wyman gravely. I dare say 
Miss Cumstan isn’t half so black as the 
scholars have painted her ; but, anyway, she 
won’t be likely to come in your way again 
very soon, for Miss Bailey’s arm has got well, 
and she is going back to school this morn- 
ing.” 

Good, good, good ! ” cried Kirke, dropping 
the kitten and skipping out into the back-yard, 
where Weezy was, to relieve his feelings by 
turning a summersault. 

don’t see how you’ll get along without 
me to amuse you, miss,” said he loftily; ^‘but 


76 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


I’m going to school. Miss Bailey’s come back, 
and I’m going a-kiting"' 

Be still stepping on my dollies,” said 
Weezy, not at all impressed by the news, if 
indeed she had heard it. She was very, very 
busy ; for she had a garden to make, and 
nothing to do it with but an iron spoon and 
a tin mustard-box. 

“Hoh! Q,-2lS\. ^ those dollies, do you.^” cried 
Kirke, hopping cautiously over a row of pop- 
pies standing on their heads on the lower 
step. “/ should call ’em posies.” 

He need not have gone off laughing. The 
poppies, in their ruffled scarlet skirts, made 
very nice dollies for a little girl used to dolls 
without arms ; and their green-leaf aprons were 
neat and becoming. 

“Jingle, jingle,” up the street. 

“ Spect that’s the beggar-man,'' said Weezy, 
tumbling over her spoon in her haste to tell 
Lovisa. 


WEEZY'S EIGS. 


77 


‘‘ Beggar-man! s coming ! Beggar-man s com- 
ing ! ” shouted she, running into the kitchen, 
where her mother was helping about the fruit- 
cake. 

‘‘ Dear me ! if he is a tramp, I don’t want 
him to come into the house,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Rowe. ‘‘Do take him out something to eat, 
Lovisa.” 

Lovisa hurried to the pantry as fast as she 
could, for a bowl of bread and milk ; then 
she heard the man coming up the walk, and 
she ran back to the kitchen to hand it to 
him before he should have time to enter. 

“ Here’s something for you,” said she, open- 
ing the door just far enough to put the bowl 
through. “You can sit down outside on the 
doorstep and eat it.” 

Instead of taking the bowl, the man began 
to laugh ; and Lovisa opened the door wider, 
and saw he was Mr. Blake, the baker, 

“Beg your pardon, sir,” stammered she, 


78 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


very much confused. “ The little girl said you 
were a beggar-manr And upon that she be- 
gan to laugh, too, and laughed so hard that 
Mrs. Rowe herself had to give the order for 
“ two graham loaves and a loaf of sponge- 
cake.” 

Run, dear, and get mamma’s purse off the 
bureau,” said she to Weezy. I want to pay 
Mr. Blake some money.” 

The child brought the purse, and looked on 
while the bread and cake were being paid for. 

“ Here, dear,” said her mother, shaking some 
soiled visiting-cards out of the portmonnaie, 
“you may have these to play with. Now put 
mamma’s purse back where you found it.” 

Weezy was gone some time, but presently 
she ran down again to her garden. Mrs. Rowe 
would not have felt so easy stoning raisins 
in the pantry if she had known the baker had 
left the gate unfastened. 

Weezy was not long in discovering the fact. 



' weezy'll go a-calling/ said she, whisking through the gateway, 


PAGE 79 




WEEZY\S EIGS. 


79 


Unfortunately, she still held the cards in her 
hand. They gave her an idea. 

**Weezy’ll go a-calling,” said she, whisking 
through the gateway, with a backward glance 
to see if anybody was looking. She felt quite 
equal to the undertaking ; for hadn’t she been 
visiting once with her mother, and carried the 
card-case all the way 

“ ‘ Come in, you pretty little pet ; ’ thafs what 
the lady’ll say,” she prattled on to herself, 
climbing the steps of the first house around 
the corner, dragging armless Sambo after her 
by the stocking-yarn hair. 

“ Oh, what a high-up bell ! ” 

Even on tiptoe she could not reach it. She 
laid Sambo down and stood on top of him, 
but even then could only touch the bell-knob 
with the tips of her fingers. 

‘‘Oh, my suz ! guess I’ll have to knock.” 

And she did knock, so very gently that 
nobody in the world could have heard her. 


So 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“ People’s gone away off,” said she, slipping 
a card under the door, as she had seen her 
mamma do when nobody answered her ring. 

“ Weezy’ll give ’em a card for when they 
come back. Don’t want to be a selfish girl.” 

After that she did not try to pull any more 
bell-knobs, but contented herself with leaving 
cards at every house on that side of the street. 
One happened to be a church, and another an 
oyster-saloon ; but it was all the same to 
Weezy. 

When she reached the provision-store on 
the second corner from home, she had only 
a single card left. As the door stood open, 
she carried it in, and ran up to a pleasant- 
looking clerk, who was sorting apples. 

“ I’ve come calling,” said she blandly, sitting 
down on a pile of codfish. 

“What upon earth !” cried the young man, 
starting in surprise at the droll little figure. 

“ Me and Sambo, we’ve come a-calling,” rc- 


WEEZY'S EIGS. 


8i 


peated Weezy, holding up the long-suffering 
dolly. “Sambo’s tired. Take him, please.” 

“Thank you, no; you must excuse me. 
What’s your name, — Grandmother Grip- 
sey .? ” 

“Weezy Rowe,” replied she, drumming her 
small boot-heels against the codfish, in some 
resentment at being called “grandmother.” 

“ Where do you live ” 

What made folks for ever and ever ask her 
that } She drew in her lips till there wasn’t 
a snip of scarlet to be seen, she was so afraid 
she should tell ; for she shrewdly suspected the 
man wanted to send her home. In offering 
Sambo to the clerk, she had dropped her card ; 
and it lay on the floor, face upward, with 
“ Mrs. Edwin Rowe, No. 6 Oak Street,” written 
very clearly upon it. 

“ Is that yours ” asked the young man, 
reading the address. 

“ It’s my mamma’s. We use ’em when we 


82 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


go a-calling,” said she, with a longing glance 
at the apples. “ I like apples, I do.” 

The clerk ran to the door and called out to 
a boy in a market-wagon, “Here, Jim, you 
have orders on Oak Street : leave this bundle 
at number six, will you } ” 

Then, almost before Weezy knew it, he had 
lifted her and Sambo upon the seat, and given 
the boy the card, so he could not mistake the 
direction. 

The horse trotted off at a brisk pace, and 
the square baskets on the floor of the wagon 
danced up and down the middle. These were 
filled with vegetables and other articles that 
people had ordered for their dinners, and 
Weezy’s driver stopped every now and then 
at a door to leave one. She found it great 
fun to go about in this fashion, and was hav- 
ing a most delightful time when they drew up 
at her father’s house on Oak Street. 

“But I don’t want to be home!' said she. 


WEEZY'S FIGS, 


83 


with a twinge of conscience at the thought 
of meeting her mother; for in the depths of 
her little heart she knew it was wrong to 
run away. 

But, when the boy lured her with a paper 
of figs, she was wonderfully soothed. She let 
him lift her down at once, and skipped past 
him through the back-gate. 

Of course, he ought to have gone in with 
her, and told her mother where he had found 
her ; but, being a bashful boy, he did no such 
thing. He watched her in at the kitchen-door, 
and then drove off. 

Nobody had missed Weezy. Her mother 
was up-stairs combing her hair, when the 
child came in with her frock full of figs. 

“See what I’ve got for mamma.” 

“Why, where did you get them, child.?” 

“’Way, 'way off,” replied Weezy evasively. 
“ Isn’t they good .? ” 

Mrs. Rowe looked at her little daughter in 


84 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


amazement. She had run against a molasses 
barrel in the store, and smeared her dress, and 
then whitened it in spots with flour ; and, as 
her mother raised her on her lap, she perceived 
an unmistakable odor of fish about her. 

“Weezy, where have you been.^” said she 
sternly : “ tell mamma the truth.” 

“ Riding ’way, ’way off,” persisted the child, 
sobbing now. 

“ But who gave you the figs .? ” 

“ Oh, the queer old boy I went a-riding 
with ! ” 

Mrs. Rowe opened the window, and gazed up 
street and down, but did not see any “queer 
old boy.” 

What could be the meaning of this wild 
story } Lovisa knew nothing about it. 

“And surely,” thought Mrs. Rowe, “if a 
man had brought my baby home, he would 
have left her in somebody’s care.” 

Could Weezy have got the figs at the 


WEEZY^S FIGS. 


35 


grocery opposite ? Her mother had some- 
times let her run over there to buy a cent’s 
worth of peanuts, while she stood in the door- 
way watching her. But the grocer was not 
fond of children. That he should have given 
her the figs, seemed unlikely. 

Mrs. Rowe’s purse still lay on the bureau 
where Weezy had put it. Mrs. Rowe unclasped 
it with an uneasy feeling. She distinctly re- 
membered, that, after paying the baker, there 
had been left a dime and a roll of bills ; and 
now the dime was gone. Mrs. Rowe rec- 
ollected with a throb of pain that Weezy had 
been a long time in carrying back the port- 
monnaie. 

‘‘Mamma has lost some money,” said she. 
“Does Weezy know any thing about it.^” 

“No’m,” sobbed the child, terrified by her 
mother’s solemn tone. 

“ Didn’t my little daughter buy figs with it ? 
Think a minute.” 


86 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“No, she didn’t,” said Weezy, smothering 
herself in her apron. 

Mrs. Rowe was distressed. 

“It was very naughty to spend mamma’s 
money,” said she gravely ; “ but it would be 
a great deal naughtier if Weezy should tell a 
wrong story about it.” 

“ I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry,” cried the 
baby. “ Weezy zvill be good.” 

“And mother’s darling won’t ever do such 
a dreadful thing again, will she.^” said Mrs. 
Rowe, much relieved. “ Don’t you think mam- 
ma ought to tie those wicked hands, to make 
them remember } ” 

“Yes’m,” said Weezy meekly. 

Five minutes after, Lovisa knocked at the 
door. Weezy sat on the bed, her chubby 
wrists bound together by a neck-ribbon. 

“ Here’s a dime, Mrs. Rowe, that I found 
under the kitchen-table. I suppose you 
dropped it in making change.” 


WEEZY'S FIGS. 


87 


Weezy didtit take mamma’s money,” 
shouted the little gypsy gleefully. “ Isn’t 
it so nice Weezy didn’t take mamma’s money 
**The next time I punish Weezy I will try 
to be sure we both know what the punishment 
is for,” thought Mrs. Rowe, as, between laugh- 
ing and crying, she untied the child’s hands. 

How shall I ever learn to bring up my 
baby?” 


CHAPTER IX. 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 

Weezy was SO tired after this that she went 
to sleep in her high-chair at the dinner-table. 
Papa laid her on the sitting-room lounge ; and 
she slept on, till, late in the afternoon, the 
slamming of th^gate waked her. 

A second after, the porch-door creaked, 
and Kirke skipped into the room in his but- 
ternut suit, as eager and frolicsome as a tan 
terrier. 

“Oh, you just ought to see Miss Bailey!” 
cried he, spinning about on one foot like a 
humming-top. “You just ought to see her!” 

“ Weezy want to see too,” yawned his little 
sister, rubbing her eyes. 


88 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 


89 


“ I’m glad you have your old teacher back 
again, my dear,” said mamma, setting her 
work-basket on the table out of reach ; for 
things had such a trick of upsetting wherever 
Kirke was. 

*^Yes; and I tell you what, mamma, she’s 
nice,” said Kirke, standing his slate up end- 
wise and sitting down upon it. She’s some 
like aunt Louisa, and she’s some like you ; 
but she’s most of all like grammy.” 

Indeed } what a dear old lady she must 
be ! ” said Mrs. Rowe mischievously. 

Now, mamma, she isn’t old : you know she 
isn’t. She’s just as young as she can be. 
Only she’s like grammy because she looks 
goody. She doesn’t peek through glasses like 
that great cross Miss Cumstan, and shake her 
finger at a boy when he moves his lips a little 
easy; no, sir. She’s real kind and pleasant, 
and I’m going to be as still as a mouse in 
her school.” 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY, 


90 

But, his slate slipping, Kirke’s mother saw 
just then a noisy little boy sitting down hard 
upon the floor. 

“I’m glad your intentions are so good,” said 
she, tenderly smoothing his thick brown hair, 
which wouldn’t stay parted, and would hang 
straight over his eyes, making his head look 
like a little hay-cock, or an old-fashioned 
English bee-hive. “ Now you have entered the 
intermediate grade, I want you to be a manly 
little fellow.” 

“Me too, mamma,” put in Weezy, anxious 
to be whatever Kirke was. 

“ Oh, you silly, silly goosie ! ” shouted Kirke 
merrily. “ Molly, come in and hear Weezy. 
She wants to be a boy.” 

“No, I don’t ever! I don’t, shoes the 
world ! ” cried Weezy, rolling off the lounge 
in high resentment. 

Now, I must tell you, that for one whole 
week after Miss Bailey came back, Kirke was 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 


a model boy, out of pure love to his old 
teacher; but then came review day, which 
always was a day of temptation to Kirke. 
He didn’t see the use of studying what he 
knew already; and the figures he made on 
his slate he certainly couldn’t have copied 
from the arithmetic, though he had ciphered 
through long division. 

First he drew something which would have 
been a circle if it had only been round, and 
placed inside it two big O’s, with a tall 
straight line between them, and the sign 
of subtraction beneath. This stood for a 
woman’s head ; though you might just as 
easily have supposed it was a tea-plate, with 
two doughnuts and two sticks of candy in 
it. 

Kirke thought it a very good head indeed ; 
and he put such a furious mop of hair on it, 
that he quite wore out his slate-pencil. Then 
he perched the head on a sort of pincushion. 


92 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


with two dub feet, and over the whole wrote 
Miss Cumstan in chalk letters. 

Kirke always put down the names of his 
portraits nowadays : he found it saved awk- 
ward blunders. No danger this time of any- 
body’s taking his drawing for a pepper-box on 
stilts ! 

He felt an artist’s pride in his work ; and 
with one eye on his spelling-book, and the 
other on Miss Bailey, he passed the slate 
across the aisle for Jimmy Maguire’s approval. 

“She ain’t got no arms,” whispered Jimmy, 
who had never heard of a grammar. 

“Pencil’s gone up,” answered Kirke, behind 
his hand. 

“Give her here: I’ll fix her,” said Jimmy, 
grasping the slate. 

Miss Bailey was busy at the desk; but she 
had quick ears, for all the gold bells in them, 
and she looked up in the direction of the 
sound. Kirke seemed to be studying with 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 


93 


all his might ; but Jimmy, putting on Miss 
Cumstan’s arms with dashing strokes, looked 
any thing but studious. 

“Bring me the slate, Jimmy,” said Miss 
Bailey, satisfied that no example in the sim- 
ple rules could require such peculiar figuring. 

Jimmy dared not disobey, though he did 
manage to blur the image with his left elbow 
as he went along. 

“Lay the slate on the desk, and remain 
after school, James,” said Miss Bailey : “ I 
want to talk with you;” and Jimmy took his 
seat with head very high, — for the boys were 
all looking, — but with spirits fearfully low. 

You wouldn’t have thought that he cared one 
bit. Somehow, it would seem that a boy in 
such an ugly jacket, and with so many warts on 
his hands, couldn’t have much feeling. Why, 
all the boys would have laughed at the idea of 
his minding being “tajked to,” — this Jimmy 
Maguire, who was always getting feruled. 


94 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


But Jimmy did mind, because Miss Bailey, 
ever since she came to the school, had 
spoken kindly to him, and treated him “ as 
if he was somebody.” Kindness was a new 
thing to him, and he liked it. 

But now it was all over with him ! Miss 
Bailey would inquire about him, and find out 
that his father was in the State prison; and 
of course she would hate him, just as everybody 
else did. And there sat Kirke Rowe looking 
as innocent as a Jack-in-the-pulpit. Nobody 
suspected him of getting into scrapes : his 
father wasn’t a jail-bird. 

‘‘Are you going to tell on me, Jimmy.?” 
whispered Kirke at recess. 

The boys were in the yard, with a long 
flight of stairs and two closed doors between 
them and the schoolroom ; but Kirke couldn’t 
speak aloud. 

“Tell on you? No, baby, I don’t tell 
tales,” said Jim fiercely; “but you better 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 


95 


keep your old slate at home next time, or I 
will.” 

Kirke felt relieved. That very morning Miss 
Bailey had patted him on the shoulder, calling 
him her “ good boy ; ” and now he always 
would be good : he wouldn’t draw any more 
pictures, and nobody need know any thing 
about the forenoon’s mischief. He hadn’t 
got caught whispering : if Jim had, Jim must 
bear the blame. He didn’t ask Jim to draw 
Miss Cumstan’s arms, and put a ferule in 
one hand and a 'book in the other. It 
wasn’t his fault if Jim did get “talked to.” 

So Kirke went home at noon among the 
“good-deportment scholars,” and tried to be- 
lieve that the reason he felt so uncomfort- 
able was that he was hungry. As if he 
didn’t know better ! He knew, as well as 
you do, that he had been a very mean little 
boy ; but he didn’t say any thing about it, not 
he ! 


96 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


He only grumbled at every thing, and made 
himself more disagreeable than a grown man 
five times as large could possibly have done, 
if he had tried with all his might. His 
mother couldn’t think what ailed him, unless 
he was coming down with measles. 

“ I’m going to have a birfday to-morrow, and 
Kisty’ll have a birfday too,” said little Weezy. 

“ Well, what of it } ” said Kirke crossly, and 
hurried out of the house. 

He was trying to hush his troublesome 
mite of a conscience, which kept telling him, 
over and over again, that he ought to confess 
to Miss Bailey that he drew the picture. 

It is just possible that he might have done 
so before school in the afternoon, if Jimmy 
hadn’t made mouths at him as he came down 
the aisle. Kirke couldn’t stand that, and he 
got very angry indeed. He didn’t care what 
happened to Jimmy. He hated him. He 
hated Miss Bailey : she had green eyes ! 


KIRKE AND JIMMY, 


97 


After that, it really seemed as if Kirke 
couldn’t be naughty enough. In the arithme- 
tic-class he chalked the seams of Peter Flint’s 
jacket, — stupid Peter Flint, who never could 
tell how many grains make a scruple; and 
afterwards, when Miss Bailey was writing a 
question on the blackboard, for the boys to 
perform, — it is dreadful to think of, — he 

blacked his own face with a bit of coal, at 

c 

which Jimmy' Maguire laughed outright. 

Miss Bailey turned around in dismay. If 
an example in reduction wouldn’t keep a boy 
sober, what would ? 

“James Maguire” said she severely, “ I 
cannot excuse this second misdemeanor. At 
recess you will report yourself in this room, 
for punishment.” 

But behind Jimmy at recess came a very 
frightened little boy, the roguery crowded out 
of his eyes by tears. 

“ Please, Miss Bailey,” said Kirke, winking 


98 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


very fast, “it’s / that’s to blame. ’Twas I, 
playing chimney-sweep, that made Jimmy 
laugh. I drew the picture, too, this morning, 
— all but the arms, — and I whispered as 
much as Jim did ! ” 

The story was out now ; and, in spite of 
himself, Kirke’s handkerchief had to come out 
too, just like any girl’s ; though, maybe, girls’ 
handkerchiefs are not usually made into rab- 
bits, as Kirke’s was. 

Miss Bailey was surprised and grieved to 
find her pet boy had been so naughty ; though 
she forgave him in a minute, with a smile for 
all the world like grammy’s. 

But Jimmy, poor Jimmy, there he stood, 
as stock-still as an exclamation -point, too 
astonished to speak. 

Just think of that little snip of a Kirke 
Rowe owning up to a trick he hadn’t been 
caught in ! Poor Jim couldn’t understand it : 
he hadn’t had any bringing-up, you know. 


KIRKE AND JIMMY. 


99 


But it gave him a clearer idea of honesty 
than he had ever had in his life before, and 
did him as much good as it did Kirke, which 
is saying a great deal. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. 

The day Weezy was four years old, Kisty 
Nye was five, — quite old enough to be called 
Christine, if the family had thought about it. 
Mrs. Nye had made her little daughter a birth- 
day cake, and invited Weezy to supper. Ellen 
Nolan was not now at Mrs. Rowe’s. She was 
attending a primary school. 

“ I’m a year older than I was yesterday, 
mamma,” said Weezy that afternoon, when 
her mother was tying her bonnet. “ Pretty 
soon won’t I be every teenty speck as old as 
Kisty .? ” 

Before Mrs. Rowe could reply, Weezy was 
whisking down the gravel-walk, dragging be- 


100 


THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. lOI 

hind her a dust-pan tied to a string. The 
dust-pan held two dolls and a clay pipe. 

Oh, ho, Weezy, I shouldn’t suppose you’d 
let your dolls smoke a pipe ! ” 

“ My dollies never smoke pipes. You’re a 
naughty boy to say so,” cried Weezy, much 
offended. 

0 

“Ah, I know now,” said Kirke, with an in- 
nocent air. “You smoke that pipe yourself.” 

“ O Kirke, what a story ! Kisty ’n’ I blow 
bubbles with it. You know we do.” 

“ Oh ! Kisty Nye blows bubbles,” said Kirke, 
pretending not to understand. “And why 
don’t you blow ’em too ? ” 

“ Well, I said I did. I said Kisty ’n’ I blow 
bubbles,” cried Weezy pettishly, twitching her 
dust-pan carriage out of the way of her 
brother’s stilts, as he hopped through the 
gate. 

“Yes, Kisty Nye blows bubbles. Just what 
you said ; and this makes twice you’ve said it,” 


102 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


cried teasing Kirke, slamming the gate behind 
him. 

H’m ! I don’t like to have folks shut gates 
in my faces,” grumbled Weezy, pushing it open 
in high displeasure. “ I think you’re a very 
plagiihig-y boy.” 

Kirke laughed, and stooped down to close 
the sweet little scolding mouth with a sugar- 
plum. 

'' Old Mr. Nye gave me three of ’em, and I 
saved one for you,” said he. ‘‘Who says I’m 
a plagtiing-y brother.?” 

“You are not plagiiing-y now any more,” 
said Weezy serenely. “ Oh, hum ! wish Mr. 
Old Nye would give me three sugar-plums 
myself.” 

Once more in gay good-humor, she trudged 
along with Kirke to Kisty’s house, not far up 
the street, and, the moment she saw Kisty, 
threw both arms about her waist. It was a 
chubby waist ; for Kisty was a chubby little 


THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. 


103 


girl, broader than Weezy, though not an inch 
taller. 

^‘Oh, I know something sp — len — did!” 
said Kisty, squeezing her fat palms together 
very hard. We’re going to have something ; 
guess what.” 

“Pin-nuts,” suggested Weezy breathlessly. 

“ Better’n peanuts. Something that hasn’t 
any shell on to it.” 

“ Gum-drops 1 ” 

“ No, no I You can’t guess, you can’t guess,” 
cried Kisty triumphantly. “ They grow on 
trees, and they have seeds in the middle.” 

“Watermelons! I about know them’s um,” 
cried Weezy, giving Kisty another hug. 

“Poh! watermelons don’t grow on trees. 
Watermelons grow on bushes, ever so low on 
the ground. I’ve seen ’em in grandpa’s gar- 
den,” said Kisty, proudly reflecting that she 
knew a great deal more than Weezy, who 
was only four years old. 


104 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


Honest ? Well, sugar gooseberries, then,” 
said Weezy, considerably crushed. 

“ No, indeed. Those don’t grow : those are 
baked in the oven. I shall have to tell : it’s 
apples, — red, ripe apples.” 

Weezy clapped her hands. 

Ned is going into the country to buy the 
apples, and mamma says for him to take us 
with him in the new dog-cart,” said Kisty, 
fairly out of breath with the excitement of 
spreading the good news. 

Weezy screamed with delight ; and, leaving 
the dolls flat on their backs under the lilacs, 
scampered off to the stable, Kisty following 
as fast as her clumsy, fat legs would carry 
her. They found Ned backing the horse into 
the thills of the dog-cart. 

“ Mamma says, Ned, you must buy a bushel 
of the best apples you can find,” panted Kisty, 
running to the house again for her hat. 

“I rather think I’d better steal ’em,” am 


THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. 


105 


swered her tall brother, with a sly wink at 
Weezy. “Wouldn’t you, little Miss Weezy? 
Supposing we creep into every orchard we 
come to, and taste of an apple on every tree 
in it, so we can pick out the nicest, and fill 
our baskets with them ? Don’t you believe 
that would be the best way ? ” 

There was no response, but the young man 
had not looked for any. He was busy buck- 
ling the harness, and thought no more about 
Weezy, till, looking up presently, he saw Kisty 
climbing into the buggy all by herself. 

“Why!” said he, “where’s the other little 
birthday girl ? ” 

Kisty did not know. She ran to ask her 
mother, and her mother did not know. Weezy 
was not in the stable, or in the garden, or in 
the house. 

After a long search, Ned found her in the 
hammock at home, sobbing bitterly. Mrs. 
Rowe and Lovisa had locked the house and 


io6 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


gone away ; and the poor little girl was all 
alone, with nobody to speak to. 

“ Ah, here you are, little runaway,” said 
Ned playfully, pulling her hands from her wet 
eyes. “ Isn’t this a funny time to play hide- 
and-seek, when you’re going to drive, and the 
horse is waiting for you } ” 

‘‘ I’m not a-going. I don’t want to ride ; 
wish you wouldn’t bovver me,” wailed she, 
rolling over upon her face. 

Oh, come along, dear ! ” urged Ned ; “ come 
right along, before Kisty cries herself sick. 
When we’ve got our apples, we’ll go to see a 
red and green parrot I know of, that’ll say, 
'Walk in, walk in, have a chair.?’” 

Weezy shook her head till her neck must 
have ached, and no amount of coaxing on 
Ned’s part would induce her to go with him. 
He did not know what to make of her, and 
at last hurried home to ask what it was 
best to do. 


THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. lO/ 

Mrs. Nye felt as uncomfortable about the 
occurrence as Ned did; and the moment she 
saw Mrs. Rowe enter her front-door, she ad- 
vised him to rush across to tell her the story. 

“ I can’t imagine what has come over 
VVeezy,” said he, catching up his hat. “I 
never knew her to act so before.” 

As he paused on Mr. Rowe’s door-stone to 
wipe his feet, he heard the child in the sitting- 
room sobbing, and this was what she was say- 
ing, — 

‘‘ He was going to steal the apples : he truly 
was, mamma. S’pose I’d ride with boys that 
steal ? Course I wouldn’t. But, oh, mamma, 
it’s such a cunning doggy-cart ; and, oh dear ! 
I wish I had some apples.” 

^‘You precious little goosie ! ” cried Ned, 
bursting into the room, laughing. “Did you 
think I really meant to steal the apples } 
Why, Weezy, dear, I was just in fun. I 
wouldn’t steal them any more than you would.” 


io8 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“You said you would, you truly did,” said 
Weezy, peeping through her fingers at him 
with an air of doubt. 

“I was making believe, pet; just making be- 
lieve. I’ll leave it to your mother if I wasn’t,” 
said Ned gayly. “ Come along with me, and 
I’ll promise not to steal so much as an apple- 
core.” 

Picking her up, tears and all, he carried her 
away to his father’s stable, where the horse 
still stood in the harness ; and, when he set 
her down in the dog-cart, her face was beaming 
with smiles. 

She had a lovely drive, and saw for herself 
that Ned did not steal a single apple, though 
he bought as many as the dog-cart would hold. 
And on their way back they called upon the 
parrot, and he invited them to “walk in, and 
have a chair,” as politely as if he had been a 
gentleman. 

When they drove into Mr. Nye’s yard, tea 


THE BIRTHDAY DRIVE. IO9 

was ready : and the two little “ birthday girls ” 
sat side by side at the table, Kisty in her 
high -chair, and Weezy in a common chair 
with the big dictionary in it ; and each had a 
piece of the birthday cake, and all they wanted 
besides. 

And when, by and by, Ned went home with 
Weezy, he carried a beautiful little new basket 
filled with choice apples, and gave it to her 
to keep. 

So you see, Weezy had a pretty good kind 
of a birthday, after all. 


CHAPTER XL 

WEEZY AND KISTY. 

It was more than a year after Weezy’s birth- 
day drive that grandpa and grandma Rowe 
came to her father’s house to spend Thanks- 
giving. 

When they returned to the parsonage away 
up among the Berkshire hills, they took 
Weezy ; and, that Weezy might not be home- 
sick, they invited little Kisty Nye to go with 
her. 

Weezy was five years old now, but, alas ! no 
nearer Kisty’s age than she had been before ; 
for Kisty was now six. They found at the 
parsonage Mr. Henry Bishop, grandpa’s oldest 
grandson, who took Weezy up in his lao and 


10 


WEEZY AIVD KISTY. 


Ill 


told her that he was her cousin, and that he 
boarded at grandpa’s, and taught the village 
school. 

“Kisty and I haven’t ever been to school, 
not ever,” said Weezy plaintively. “ Please 
can’t we go, Mr. Cousin Bishop } ” 

You ? I’m afraid you don’t know enough,” 
said Mr. Bishop, patting her cheek. “Can 
you say all your letters ? ” 

“Most all, mce/ft two or three ItU/e ones,” 
said Weezy briskly. “ I can spell too.” 

“ Indeed ! What can you spell } ” 

“Oh, I can spell all the easy words, — d, o, g, 
dog; c, a, t, cat; g, o, t, goat,” said Weezy, 
proud of her knowledge. 

“Oh, I see, you spell by sound, the pho- 
netic way ! ” said Mr. Bishop, throwing back 
his head and laughing. 

“Don’t know what is fonetti-qiiay^'' returned 
Weezy, rather disturbed. “My brother could 
spell it, I guess. He can spell awful hard 
words.” 


1 12 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

Then she frisked away to beg grandma to 
send her and Kisty to school to “ Mr. Cousin 
Bishop.” 

“ What should I do without my dear little 
girls } ” said grandma, smiling over her spec- 
tacles. “No, no, I couldn’t spare them.” 

But, by the close of the week, the “ dear 
little girls ” had become so tired and cross from 
endless romping, that grandma concluded she 
could spare them very well. The school- 
house was near, and she thought it would be 
really better for them to go to school than 
to play all day long : so the next Monday 
morning she dressed them in their warm 
plaid gowns, and sent them off, each with a 
cooky in her pocket. 

They were by far the smallest scholars of 
any ; and Mr. Bishop soon found that when 
they were not at his knee, picking out their 
letters in the primer, it was puzzling to know 
what to do with them. If they sat together. 


WEEZY AND KISTY. 


II3 

they would whisper and make too much noise; 
and if they sat apart, Ki^ty would go to sleep, 
and Weezy would be miserable. 

At last he hit upon the expedient of sending 
them out to play in the sunshine the moment 
they had recited. They liked this very much. 

Right behind the schoolhouse was a steep 
bank, down which the boys and girls coasted 
at noon and at recess. Kisty and Weezy 
thought it fine fun to slide there all by them- 
selves, and clumsy Kisty did not mind a fall 
or two, with only Weezy to see. 

One afternoon, indeed, she grew so daring 
that she slid standing up for the whole length 
of the slope; but unfortunately she lost her 
balance at the foot, and pitched forward on 
her little snub nose. It bled furiously; any 
nose would have bled, treated in that way ; 
and Kisty howled so dismally that Mr. Bish- 
op heard her from his desk, and sent one of 
the large girls to bring her in. 


1 14 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

The girl found frightened Weezy mopping 
Kisty’s face with her own Mikado pocket- 
handkerchief, and tugging with all her might 
to drag her up the bank. 

‘‘This accident puts an end to your sport, 
little girls,” said Mr. Bishop, after they were 
again in their seats. “I must forbid your 
sliding any more.” 

“I think it’s real mean,” whispered Weezy 
behind her primer. “ He’s just as selfish as 
he can be ! ” 

“’Tisn’t his bank either,” grumbled Kisty. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t go and be such a 
little tumble-down girl, Kisty Nye,” went on 
Weezy rather spitefully. •“ If you hadn’t gone 
and hurt your nose, he would have let us 
slide some more.” 

“ Well, do you s’pose I could help it, Weezy 
Rowe } Do ypu s’pose I hurted my nose to 
purpose } ” retorted Kisty, burying her face in 
her apron. 



FOUND FRIGHTENED WEEZY MOPPING KISTY's FACE WITH HER OWN MIKADO POCKET- 


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WEEZY AND KISTY, 


II5 

“ Don’t cry,” said Weezy, putting both arms 
around Kisty’s neck. Please not cry. It 
makes the blood leak out again.” 

The primer class next,” called Mr. Bishop. 

Pulling her apron from her head, Kisty 
followed Weezy down the aisle to his desk 
for their reading-lesson. 

Mr. Bishop enjoyed his two little pupils, 
and had taken so much pains in teaching them 
that they could now spell out such sentences 
as, Do we go up } ” quite glibly. 

That’ll do,” said he, when they had 
finished the page, and had each spelled 
‘‘goat” and “coat” three times over without 
missing. 

Then Weezy jogged Kisty’s elbow, and 
Kisty jogged Weezy’s ; and it was Weezy that 
spoke first. 

“ Please can’t Kisty ’n’ I go out and play ? ” 

“ I hardly dare let you,” replied Mr. Bishop 
regretfully. 


Il6 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

“Please,” pleaded Weezy. “I’ll hold on to 
Kisty so tight she can’t fall.” 

“She’ll hold on to me,” echoed Kisty. 

“Will you promise to take only one slide.?” 

“Yes, sir, truly; but bare one,” cried they 
in a breath. 

“ Well, if you’ll be very careful. I’ll try you,” 
said Mr. Bishop, smiling ; and they ran away, 
two happy little children. 

They were gone so long that he entirely 
forgot them till late in the afternoon, when 
he was dismissing the school. Then, from 
a back window, he caught sight of them 
disappearing below the bank. Presently 
they climbed in view again, Weezy dragging 
Kisty. 

Three times they went up and down the 
slope, while Mr. Bishop stood watching them 
with a grave face, grieved to think they 
should have broken their promise to him. 

At last he rapped upon the pane ; and they 


WEEZY AND KISTY. 


II7 

came dancing in, their cheeks glowing like cab- 
bage-roses. 

“I’m sorry I cannot trust my little girls,” 
said he soberly, taking down his overcoat. 

Bashful Kisty hung her head, but Weezy 
opened her great brown eyes in indignant 
wonder. 

“ We haven’t done any thing,” said she. 

“Think, Weezy. Didn’t you tell me you 
would take but one slide } And I’ve seen 
you take three myself.” 

“ Oh, no ; honest, we never,” cried Weezy. 

“Never, now, certi’gly,” echoed Kisty. 

“Hush, children,” said Mr. Bishop sternly. 
“ It is very naughty to speak an untruth, and 
I say I saw you sliding.” 

“Truly we slided only but just once,” per- 
sisted Weezy, with an honest face. 

Kisty pulled her apron over her head, 
sobbing dolefully, as she always did when 
scolded. 


Il8 LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 

Mr. Bishop looked down upon the weeping 
bundle of calico, sorely puzzled. 

‘‘Did you forget your promise when you 
slid so many times } " he gently asked. 

“We never did slide so many times,” said 
Weezy indignantly. 

“ ’Cause we promidged,” wailed Kisty. “ Me 
and Weezy was only but just heeling and ^ 
toeing the bank.” ^ 

Mr. Bishop tried hard not to smile. 

“ Indeed, was that all But how did you 
heel and toe it? I want to see.” 

“It’s just as easy as nothing,” said Weezy, 
frisking off to the snow-drift, where she and 
Kisty had been playing. 

At sight of its steep side riddled with holes, 
like a cliff full of sand-martens’ nests, Mr. 
Bishop laughed outright; but he caught his 
breath when fearless little Weezy ran swiftly 
down, setting her small boot-heels in these 
holes, one after another. 


WEEZY AND KISTY. 


119 


Thafs how to heel the bank,” she called 
back from the bottom. Quick ! look, Mr. 
Cousin Bishop. This is how to toe it.” 

And, facing about, she ran up, pressing the 
toes of her little boots deep into the tracks 
their heels had made. 

“What will these children do next to kill 
themselves ^ ” thought the teacher. “ I hate 
to keep breaking their hearts.” 

But, when he told them that they must not 
“ heel and toe the bank ” any more, Weezy 
only said, — 

“ Well, we didnt slide so many times ; now 
did we, Mr. Cousin Bishop.^” 

“And we didn’t never break our promidge,” 
added Kisty, emerging from her apron. 

“ As if we’d be little tell-lie girls,” said 
Weezy, as she and Kisty trudged home hand 
in hand behind Mr. Bishop. 

When she went into the sitting-room, her 
grandpa and grandma sat by the open fire. 


120 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


with an empty chair between them, and both 
were smiling. 

“You’d better shut the door, dear,” said 
grandma quietly. 

Weezy turned around to obey, and then, for 
the first time, saw her father, who had been 
hiding behind it. 

“ O papa, papa, you funny papa ! ” cried she, 
springing into his arms, and half smothering 
him with kisses. “ Who brought you to 
grandma’s house } Did mamma } ” 

“ No, dear ; mamma couldn’t come, so she 
sent me to take you home for the Christmas- 
tree. She has a wonderful present for you.” 

“ Oh, oh ! What is it, papa ” 

“ I promised I wouldn’t tell ; but something 
that moves.” 

“ A tricycle } Oh, is it a tricycle ? ” 

“ Something that can make more music than 
a tricycle,” replied papa, with a glance at 
grandma. 


WEEZY AND KISTY. 


12 


Is it a hand-organ ? Oh, is it ? ” cried 
Weezy, clapping her hands. 

‘‘ No, no, little quiz ; it’s not a hand-organ,” 
laughed Mr. Rowe. And now I sha’n’t tell 
you another thing about it, or, before I know 
it, you’ll be guessing what it is.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT. 

Mr. Rowe staid at the parsonage one day, 
and then went back to Gallatin, taking with 
him Weezy and Kisty. Kisty’s brother Ned 
met her at the station, and drove her away 
in the dog-cart ; and Weezy went home with 
her father in a hack. 

‘‘There’s Kirke looking out of the window. 
Oh, oh ! and there’s Molly. Guess they’ll be 
glad to see their dear little sister,” cried Weezy 
complacently, as the driver stopped at the gate. 

“ Did you tell her, papa Did you tell 
her ” shouted Kirke, dancing out in his slip- 
pers, and catching up Weezy at the risk of 
breaking his back. 


122 


A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT. 


123 


“ No, no, my son, I didn’t tell her,” said 
papa, laughing. “ I remembered my promise to 
you and Molly.” 

Molly was already on the threshold, hug- 
ging and kissing “her dear little sister;” and 
Mr. Rowe had to drive the excited children 
in, before he could close the door. 

“ Where’s mamma } Where is my mamma ? 
cried Weezy, runni*ng into the sitting-room. 

“Up-stairs,” said Molly, her blue eyes spar- 
kling. “ Papa’s gone up ; and we’re going in a 
minute, just as soon as I can get your things 
off. Dear, dear, I do believe your hood is 
tied in a hard knot.” 

“ Bust the string ; / would ! Oh, come 
ahead,” cried Kirke impatiently, perching on 
the railing of the stairway. 

“ In a minute. The knot’s undoing. There, 
now we’ll scamper,” said Molly, dropping the 
hood, and taking one of Weezy’s hands ; while 
Kirke skipped down and took the other. Side 


124 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


by side the three children hurried up-stairs, 
into their mamma’s chamber. 

Here I am, mamma ! Don’t you feel be- 
lighted to have your little girl come home } ” 
cried Weezy, frisking up to her mother, who 
sat in an easy-chair by the grate, in a new 
cardinal wrapper, holding on her lap a white 
flannel bundle. 

Yes, dear, I am helighted ; indeed I am,” 
said mamma, kissing the bright, eager face 
again and again. “ Have you been grandma’s 
little comfort ? ” 

“Some,” replied Weezy, rather doubtfully. 
“ Gramma says I improve.” 

“ Let me show it first ; please let me show 
it first,” whispered Kirke, fingering the white 
flannel bundle, which his little sister had not 
yet observed. 

“You haven’t asked what mamma has for 
you, Weezy,” said papa, very near telling. 

“ It’s yours, and it’s Molly’s, and it’s mine,” 


A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT. 


125 


said Kirke, turning down the blanket with a 
flourish. “There, sir, what do you think of 
that } It’s a little live brother ! ” 

“ An onty donty little brother ! Oh, oh, oh ! ” 
gasped Weezy, hopping up and down, and gaz- 
ing at the awakening little stranger. “Truly, 
mamma, is he ours to keep.^” 

“We trust so, dear.” 

“O mamma, just see his little fists wiggle! 
And, mamma, look : he’s got his eyes open 
a’ready.” 

Kisty ran over early the next morning to see 
the baby ; and, when she and Weezy became 
too noisy, Mrs. Rowe sent them into Molly’s 
room, where, to tell the truth, they were not 
wanted. Molly sprang up and hid her work 
in a drawer ; for she was doing something that 
her little sister must not know of at present, 
— something that would please her vastly by 
and by. 

To begin at the beginning. Mrs. Rowe had 


126 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


said one day that at Christmas she should give 
Viola Maud to Weezy. Whereupon Mr. Rowe 
had remarked, that, if she did so, he should 
give Weezy a new gentleman doll” in place 
of Sambo, who had now grown old and de- 
crepit. 

Then it was that it came into Molly’s head 
to marry these dolls to each other, and make 
them a fine wedding. She and Kirke had 
talked about it a great deal during Weezy’s 
absence, and made all the arrangements. 
Kirke, with his toy press, was to print the 
wedding-cards ; Lovisa had promised to make 
the wedding-cake ; and Molly herself was to 
provide the bride’s trousseau^ which must be 
as elegant and ample as Viola Maud herself 
could desire. 

It was nearly completed ; and Molly was 
setting the last stitches in the bridal veil this 
morning, when interrupted by Weezy and 
Kisty. 


A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT. 


127 


The little girls were discussing the new 
baby with great animation. 

“What do you suppose makes him cry so 
funny.?” exclaimed Kisty, inclined to be 
jealous of his young lordship, 

“ Oh, he hasn’t learned how ! ” cried Weezy, 
warm in his defence. “ Course he can’t cry 
nice yet. He hasn’t been down here only but 
just two weeks.” 

“ Oh, so he hasn’t ! I forgot,” said Kisty 
meekly. 

“ Before he came down he used to be a little 
angel fluttering ’round the sky,” added Weezy 
instructively; “and, you know, he didn’t hear 
anybody crying up there.” 

This must be so, and seemed to settle the 
matter ; and no more fault could be found with 
his manner of crying. 

“ Who cut off his wings ? ” queried matter- 
of-fact Kisty, sniffing Molly’s cologne. “ Was 
it your mamma.?” 


128 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“/ don’ know. Guess they dropped off.” 

‘‘ He’s got awful little feet,” remarked Kisty, 
putting the stopper back into the cologne- 
bottle. 

“Awful little,” echoed Weezy ; “and so 
soft and pinky ! ” 

“/ don’t think baby’s nose is very pretty,” 
said Kisty frankly. 

“ I don’t care : it’s prettier’n yours is, 
any old how, Kisty Nye,” retorted Weezy, 
backing away from the bureau where Kisty 
stood. 

“’Visa calls it a Roman nose,” said Molly, 
with a grown-up smile, very irritating to her 
small sister. 

“Well, I don’t care if it is a roammg nosQ \ 
it’s just as good as anybody’s.” 

“Yes, indeed, dear,” said Molly soothingly ; 
“ and mamma says it won’t look so big when 
baby gets plumper. And now if you and 
Kisty will run down and play in the dining- 


A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT. 


129 


room, I’ll give each of you a piece of candy 
out of the box grandma sent me.’* 

“Well,” said Weezy, again in good-humor, 
“if you won’t give us the tongue-smarty kind, 
we’ll go.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE dolls’ CHRISTMAS WEDDING. 

On Christmas Eve Mrs. Rowe came down- 
stairs to see the Christmas-tree that aunt Clara 
had arranged ; and, to please Weezy, nurse 
brought the baby. 

It must be admitted that the little fellow 
behaved abominably ; making up faces at every- 
body, and even squaring his fists at the lovely 
silver mug presented to him, as if he scorned 
the name of Donald Rowe that Santa Claus 
had had engraved upon it. But then, as Weezy 
justly remarked, baby was not used to com- 
pany. 

Everybody else fully enjoyed the wonderful 
tree, laden with gifts. There was a dark meri- 

130 


THE DOLLS' CHRISTMAS WEDDING. I3I 

no for Ellen Nolan, an overcoat for Jimmy Ma- 
guire, and a great package of books for the 
minister, Mr. Cutler. There was a nice work- 
box for Lovisa, a warm red shawl for Pocahon- 
tas, and a lovely picture-book for Kisty, beside 
gifts without number for the Wymans and 
Rowes. 

But what captivated Weezy more than all 
these things was the sight of two dolls sitting 
under the tree side by side. One was Viola 
Maud, gorgeously arrayed in a party dress of 
pink satin ; and the other was an elegant little 
bachelor in a black broadcloth suit, with white 
waistcoat and gloves, and a watch no bigger 
than a buttercup. 

“ Oh, oh, oh ! the beauXSivXy beauWlvX dol- 
lies ! ” cried she, dropping on her knees before 
them. “O Molly, do you s’pect they’re for 
me.? ” 

‘‘ Yes, yes, every bit of ’em,” replied Molly, 
almost as excited as Weezy. “And here 


132 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


are Viola Maud’s clothes. Mamma cut ’em 
out, and I sewed ’em, all but the button- 
holes.” 

“ Oh, you are a darling sister ! Oh, what a 
beautiful little trunk ! ” 

“ Kirke bought you that. Doesn’t it look 
for all the world like aunt Clara’s big Sara- 
toga .? ” 

Weezy pulled out the garments, one by one, 
uttering little squeals of delight, and hopping 
up every other moment to kiss Kirke and 
Molly. The trunk contained six complete 
suits, not counting the red jersey jacket ; 
and by changing about, — putting the polo- 
naise of one dress over the skirt of another, — 
Viola Maud, you see, could have two different 
gowns for each day in the week. 

Then there were half a dozen hats of the 
latest mode, and handkerchiefs of real lace, 
beside two sets of under-garments all ruffled 
and tucked. Certainly it was a fine outfit 


THE DOLLS' CHRLSTMAS WEDDLNG. 1 33 

for a little girl of eleven to fashion, and Molly 
deserved much credit. 

Before the presents were taken from the tree, 
Kisty was brought over to see it; and Kirke 
and Molly told her and Weezy all about the 
marvellous doll-wedding to be celebrated on the 
morrow, and how Kirke was going round early 
in the morning to invite the wedding guests. 

“ He’ll bring me a card too,” thought Kisty, 
delighted ; and I never had a wedding-card 
in all my life.” 

Christmas dawned clear and bright ; and 
after breakfast Kirke and Molly bustled off 
to one corner of the library, with an air of 
great importance. 

“Are you sure you’ve printed invitations 
enough ” asked Molly anxiously. 

“ Hoh, yes. Here they are, — one, two, three, 
four, five, six, seven,” said Kirke, counting 
over the cream-tinted correspondence cards 
in his hand. 


134 


little miss weezy. 


They were dainty affairs, and read in this 
way : — 



Molly had hesitated about the postscript, but 
had finally concluded it would be safer to add it. 

While she was trying her pen, Kirke slipped 
the seven cream-tinted cards into their seven 
cream-tinted envelopes, each bearing the mon- 
ogram R. O., which of course meant Rowe 
and Osborne. 



THE DOLLS' CHRISTMAS WEDDING. 1 35 

Then Molly carefully addressed these enve- 
lopes to the seven little girls that Weezy 
knew best, and laid them in a pretty willow 
basket, with a white satin bow on top. 

When they were ready, Kirke took the 
basket, and went out to deliver them. From 
her mother’s room Kisty Nye saw him com- 
ing down the street, and her heart went pit- 
a-pat. But alack and alas ! Kirke walked 
straight by, and never turned his head ! 

He left an invitation for Jenny Lancey right 
opposite, and one for Matty Lee at the cor- 
ner; and after that he came back by the 
house to leave one on Elm Street for that 
snip of a Dolly Wright, whom Weezy hardly 
knew at all ! 

Kisty had been so sure she herself should 
be invited. And why not Oh, it was 
very, very hard ! No wonder she nearly 
cried her eyes out, and at dinner left her 
pudding untasted, feeling that this was a 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


136 

very cruel world for a little girl only six years 
old. 

Quarter of three came at last ; and as Molly 
remarked, it was almost late enough to begin 
the wedding. 

She and Kirke had got all the old dolls 
together in a rowe on the sitting-room lounge, 
to represent Viola Maud’s “poor relations,” 
when Jenny Lancey rushed in, exclaiming, 
“ O Molly, did you mean to leave out Kisty 
Nye ^ She feels dreadfully because she isn’t 
invited.” 

“ I did invite her ; I invited Kisty Nye 
first of any,” cried Molly, flying across the 
room in wild excitement. “Kirke Rowe, 
you’ve gone and forgotten to give Kisty her 
invitation. You naughty, horrid boy! I 
think you’re just as” — 

Molly bit her lips, trembling with anger, 
and began to cry. 

“ Oh, dear, dear I ” sobbed she, in quite a 


THE DOLLS' CHRISTMAS WEDDING. 1 37 

different tone, you’re made me lose my tem- 
per again. O Kirke ! how could you, when I 
promised mamma I’d try to be sweet for 
baby’s sake ? ” 

‘‘I delivered every note there was in the 
basket, so now,” said Kirke sulkily. 

Who came to the door at Mr. Nye’s ? Was 
it the girl.?” 

I don’t know ; I don’t believe I went there,” 
said Kirke, considering. I’ll go and see.” 

*‘Wait, wait,” said Jenny. “Take Kisty a 
card, can’t you .? She’ll be mad, not to have 
one like the rest of us.” 

“I didn’t print but seven,” said Kirke. 

“ Well, I’ll write her one ; she won’t know 
the difference,” returned Molly, running into 
the library, and dragging out her desk. 

As she lifted the lid, the first thing she 
saw was a cream-tinted envelope, so plainly 
directed to Kisty Nye that grandma herself 
might have read it without her spectacles. 


138 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“ There, miss, who’s to blame now ? ” cried 
Kirke triumphantly, peeping into the envelope 
to make sure the card was in it. 

The next moment the front-door slammed, 
and he was racing down the street bareheaded, 
to bring Kisty; for, dearly as he loved to 
tease, he could not bear to have anybody 
made unhappy. 

You may be sure Mrs. Nye was not long 
in putting on her little daughter’s hood and 
cloak; and the rest of the wedding guests 
had hardly assembled before Kirke and Kisty 
appeared among them, Kisty’s happy face 
beaming with smiles. 

There was a hush in the room, when the 
doll bride and bridegroom, supported by Molly, 
entered arm in arm, and took the places in the 
bay-window, beneath a marriage-bell of Christ- 
mas evergreen. The bride wore a white satin 
gown, with a most extravagant train ; and her 
long lace veil was fastened with a wreath 


THE DOLLS' CHRISTMAS WEDDING. 1 39 

of fine white flowers, supposed to be dwarf 
orange-blossoms. 

She stood gazing straight at the minister, 
while the bridegroom leaned toward her with 
an affectionate stare, his left hand grasping 
a cambric handkerchief, with which to dry her 
eyes in case she should shed tears during 
the trying ceremony. 

Kirke, in his father’s best white necktie, 
officiated as clergyman ; and as Viola Maud 
could only say “papa” and “mamma,” and 
as Clarence Osborne was too much stuffed to 
speak at all, Molly had to make the responses 
for both parties. 

“Do you, Clarence Osborne, take this wo- 
man to be your awful wedded wife ^ ” began the 
acting minister, in a tone of deep solemnity. 

“ I do,” squeaked a faint voice, while the 
bridegroom bowed with all his might. 

“ Do you, Viola Maud, take this man to be 
your awful wedded husband?” 


140 


LITTLE MISS WEEZY. 


“I do,” answered a voice still fainter; and 
the bride’s head bent gently, like a flower 
caressed by a butterfly. 

‘‘Then,” said the minister clearing his 
throat, “ I pronounce you man and wife.” 

The nervous strain was over at last, but it 
had been too much for the sensitive bride. 
As the bridegroom turned to salute her, she 
tottered and fell fainting into his arms. 

Fortunately, Molly, foreseeing such a catas- 
trophe, had provided herself with a smelling- 
bottle, which she now held to the nostrils of 
the swooning little lady. 

“Mrs. Osborne” was kind enough to revive 
very soon, and to receive the congratulations 
of the guests crowding about her ; and it was 
observed, in her praise, that she greeted her 
“poor relations” just as cordially as she did 
the most richly attired doll in the room. 

Afterwards Weezy and Kisty passed around 
the wedding - cake and the bride’s - cake ; and 


THE DOLLS ^ CHRLSTMAS WEDDING. I4I 


Molly and Kirke brought in hot chocolate in 
pretty little china cups, that all might drink 
to the health of the bride and bridegroom. 

Oh, it was a lovely, lovely afternoon ! And 
its close was better than its beginning ; for 
the little girls and their dolls were taken 
home in Dr. Wyman’s great double sleigh, in 
which Mr. and Mrs. Osborne had set out on 
their honeymoon trip. 

And so ended the dolls’ Christmas wed- 
ding. 



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